Insidious
by paliasathena
Summary: While Mithrandir is held prisoner in Isengard, Aragorn and Co. set out to unravel the mystery behind his disappearance. Needless to say, trouble finds them! Major Estel, twins and Legolas angst and adventure! AU set just prior to FOTR.
1. Prologue

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**Author's Note**

...A bit of explaining to do- a couple years ago I began this story. To make an extremely long story short, I could not continue it at that time. I am so very very sorry to anyone who may have reviewed or enjoyed the story back then, I always meant to continue and hoped that I would revisit it one day. I can only promise that I will try to keep up with updates. Writing is a stress relieving outlet for me and while I want the reader to enjoy, I write for my own enjoyment as well. Again, I am sorry to anyone who began to read this before and I hope that this time I can complete it.

**I especially want to apologize to _gemstone_, _tychen_ and _Isadora2_. Thank you for the encouragement. I hope I don't let you down.**

On a technical note, I apologize in advance for bad grammar. While I don't normally write fanfic, I have been notorious in my other works for long sentences. I hope it doesn't get too bothersome. I will try my best to catch myself but sometimes time does not permit it. Enjoy!

-Athena

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**Context ...**

We are taken to a time before the creation of the Fellowship, when the growing threat of Sauron is newly realized and gradually investigated. The alarm is being raised. This story occurs between the time that Frodo of the Shire is warned to "keep it secret, keep it safe" by Gandalf the Grey who rides to seek council with Saruman the White, and before Aragorn son of Arathorn journeys to meet Frodo at the Prancing Pony.

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**Prologue**

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****Present time… **

Elladan leapt easily up to the fallen tree. "No!" he screamed in shock, his eyes coming to rest on the small mound where Aragorn, his brother, held an unmoving Legolas in his grasp, knife poised for the kill. He could see Arwen, a ways below, struggling in vain with the ropes which bound her. The anger within him rose, and so did the urgency. And suddenly he was back there, in that horrible dungeon…

"_Elladan, you must end it. If it is not in my power, then I leave it in yours…"_

Aragorn had known what might come of his sacrifice. He was far too dangerous in the hands of evil. Elladan felt the bitter, hot tears sting his eyes. One man's life for the life of many, for the survival of Arda…there was no other way. He had given his word. He was the eldest and as such, he accepted a responsibility that Elrohir, Legolas and even Estel would never know. He notched his bow, drew the arrow, tears brimming in his unwavering eyes…_I love you my brother…_

The tears fell freely now, glowing as they spilled from her closed eyes, her countenance cast downward in sorrow, the crystalline orbs splashing against the harsh ropes which cruelly bound her delicate wrists. So much sorrow, in one so fair. And yet, the Lady's words were ever in her heart… _"Hope remains…"_ As though possessed by another spirit, stronger now than her broken soul, she felt a soft melody rise from a place beyond her memory, a place where her love unshaken kept her warm with its power...

And she began to sing….

_O môr henion i dhu:  
_

Suddenly there was a light in the doomed darkness that the dusk had swiftly become. Legolas could barely breathe, the hand clasp firmly around his throat, crushing his last breath, trapping it tightly. He gasped, trembling as his tired and broken body struggled to spend its last strength. The eyes, so empty, so hateful, so foreign…not the soft grey spheres that mirth refused to abandon. In his tidal wave of pain, and sorrow, and confusion, the sound of sweet desire, like the scent of athelas to a dying man, consumed his mind and rekindled his hope.

_Ely siriar, el síla  
_

It was a tense moment, as though time had suddenly stopped and all of its temporal slaves frozen in terrible awe. Aragorn stood, the knife in his hand, inches from the elf's heart. His limbs trembled with rage and victory as he paused before the kill relishing the fear in his enemy's eyes…the enemy…in a moment, a brief moment it would be over…

_Ai! Aníron Undómiel _

_Undomiel…Evenstar…_the words came to him, slowly, repeated, so slowly…a small gasp escaped him, he blinked in confusion, clinging to the hatred, to the darkness…_  
_

_Tiro! El eria e mor.  
_

Legolas fought to remain conscious, he did not dare flinch let alone breathe as he witnessed the true and awesome power of an immortal love. Aragorn's eyes widened, their intensity changing, softening, shimmering. Could it be recognition? Could this song fight a magic darker than Sauron's own evil, more powerful than Mithrandir's sorcery? And suddenly, his gaze shifted…

_I 'lir en el luitha 'uren.  
_

Slowly, gracefully, she looked up to him, the song louder now, flowing freely…

_Ai! Aniron... _

"Undomiel…" he whispered, not fully aware yet more aware than he had been in a very long time. The pain in his head increased as the darkness momentarily dissipated, leaving a hazy cloud of confusion in its wake. _What is happening to me?_ She was so beautiful, on her knees, her eyes pleading, expressing such a deep love. And in that moment, that brief moment, the spell was broken…

In one awful release the tension exploded –

Legolas seized the precious moment, took the only chance he needed and thrust his hand forward to clasp the evil medallion and pull it from his friend's neck, breaking the chain. The stone burned ferociously in his palm and he threw it with all of the disdain, anger and revenge he could manage. The stone broken into a thousand pieces, the glasslike material shattering against the bark of a tree and scorching the trunk with its evil and corruptive fire.

Aragorn inhaled sharply as the stone collided with the trunk, his vision clearing, the hand on Legolas' throat releasing. He dropped the dagger in horror. "Legolas-?" he choked, his mind unable to process what was happening, where he was, what he was about to do. There was no memory of that now, only the sweet song, and now the strange feeling of Legolas' strained breathing, and an unbearable aching in his side. He relaxed his grip completely as Legolas sunk to his knees.

Legolas smiled in spite of himself, relief washing over his disbelief.

The arrow found its mark-

Aragorn gasped in shock and surprise more than pain. His eyes widening in disbelief as they slowly fell to the arrow's shaft, protruding from his chest. "…legolas…" he whispered, clearly trembling crimson rising to his lips…. He swayed for a moment, then suddenly, he could not feel his legs as they collapsed beneath him. The last coherent thoughts swirled in his mind. As the blackness overcame him, he was suddenly back there…reliving the moments leading to this end as his life flashed before him and the adventure, which had not yet ended, once again began…….


	2. One

**One**

He inhaled deeply sweet air, crisp in the morning's youth refreshed his body, his spirit, his nostalgia. He was home, after so many long years abroad, he was finally home. It had been as he had left it, as it will ever live in his deepest most treasured memories. Giving the horse which carried him a light squeeze with his heels, he trotted forward on a path that held many memories, both sweet and bitter. The path was bathed in golden sunlight and the verdant trees forest bordering it seemed to surge with life. The colors were vivid, sharp and contrasting, more beautiful than any he had yet to observe which was saying a lot given the expanse of travels of late. He whispered softly to the horse, so softly that the words were lost in the light breeze which lifted the stray strands of dark hair from his eyes as he bent to the animals' ear. It was a welcoming breeze unique to the western glens of the Misty Mountains.

Aragorn smiled. He was home.

The joy in his return to Rivendell, the place of his rearing, was dampened by the dark nature of his need. The matter weighed heavily on his heart, and try as he might to remain optimistic, hope and faith gave ground to worry and doubt as the days passed. He held the reigns firmly in his hands, continuing to the great gates and then up another, steeper path, to Imladris. Added to his happiness, mingled with his doubt a third emotion stirred within him…a longing and still another, fear. The Dunadan was not accustomed to the later and it made him quit uncomfortable. In truth, he knew not what to expect. His parting had been as a tempest, ending in even waters but beginning in crushing waves. How would Lord Elrond receive him?

He pulled lightly on the reigns as he passed through a second gate and was suddenly greeted by a host of Elvin guards, his friends. After an exchange of pleasant welcoming and friendly gestures he dismounted, entrusting his steed to be fed and rested in the stables. Aragorn could think of no better place for the faithful, weary animal which had carried him for two nights and nearly three days without more than an hour's rest. The ranger himself could feel the tug of exhaustion on his body, but he would not allow it to register, there was work yet to be done. Following two of the guards across a glowing bridge, over a stream of glimmering water and up yet another path, he prayed that his efforts would not be in vain.

"Estel! Brother!"

Aragorn turned in surprise, halting on the stairs of the great meeting hall. He could not fight the broad smile that brightened his weary features. He took two steps down to meet them, extending his arms in welcome. Two tall, fair Elves took the forearms in the formal fashion of greeting before pulling the unsuspecting human forward into a tight embrace, nearly crushing him between them. They released him a moment later. Aragorn's smile had not faded. "Elladan, Elrohir. I cannot express how well it is to see you. I have missed you."

"And we you, brother. Welcome home," Elladan, the elder of the twins, replied, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. He hid his concern well. He had longed for this moment for years. Truly he missed the man standing before him, suddenly materialized as if he had stepped out of a distant memory. But he was different now, tired and burdened. Elladan read the sorrow in his eyes, despite the grin on his face and he knew the nature of this visit was not vacation. _The darkness of his destiny has begun… _

"Father is waiting, let us go to him. I am sure he will be very pleased to see you-"Elrohir was saying, leading the way up the stairs.

Aragorn winced inwardly at the mention of his foster father and suddenly he was lost in a time long since passed, a moment long since lost but far from forgotten…

_"Estel, you above any must understand the plight of our people. We will fade from this middle-earth; we will go to the undying lands as is our right. You cannot deny her that, you cannot deny her her mother, her brothers…her father for eternity. Would you condemn her to mortality? And when you are gone, what then? You would have her wander the earth alone and in sorrow to the end of her days, suffering a pain far beyond any you may ever endure-"_

"_Peace Ada…Lord Elrond. I would rather die a thousand deaths over than allow her to suffer for a single moment. I have begged her to leave, to go with her people. It is her choice…"_

"_You have enchanted her-"_

"_I love her! And she loves me-"_

"_Estel, my son. If you love her, you must let her go, you must encourage her to go."_

"_I am torn-"_

"_As am I. In the end, she will choose. But so help me, son of Arathorn, if my daughter, the Evenstar, prize of her people chooses a mortal life, then I will see her wed to no less than a King."_

_The words resonated loudly in his heart only intensifying the dark gloom that had settled ever since he had first learned of the dark road of his destiny, a destiny he would as soon refuse had _he_ been given a choice. _

"_A King-" _

"Lord Elrond," Aragorn bowed low before the man he knew as his father. They had left on civil terms and the bond between them, the love of a father for his son, though shaken could never be broken. Soon after the conversation, Aragorn had left and Arwen was sent to Lothlorien. Under the guidance of Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir to his people, Aragorn became a Dunadan of the North. He had trained hard in those years in the wilderness. He had achieved many great deeds, and had earned through sweat and blood a heroic reputation among men and elves alike. But while he gained so much in the way of skill and knowledge, the young man lost the only identity he had known. No longer was he Estel of Rivendell or even Aragorn son of Arathorn but instead Strider the ranger. Somehow coming here, to this place after so many years of absence restored his loss, and made him feel whole again. And now, in the presence of Elrond, things had come full circle. "I fear the news I bring is of an ill nature."

"Please, Aragorn, sit. You are weary and your heart is full of sorrow, I can read it in your eyes," Elrond's words were spoken softly, betraying his concern and love. The unexpected arrival of his adopted son had evoked a somber mood in the Elf Lord. He had missed the boy terribly, but the boy was now a man and the man would soon be a king. Such were the dark times that they faced and while his love for his son had never dimmed, Elrond controlled the display with expert composure. They took their seats around a round wooden table. The wood was heavy and elaborately carved, its surface polished to a smooth sheen. Aragorn sat down first, followed by Elladan and Elrohir. Finally, Elrond joined them. "Now tell me, what are the ill tidings you speak of?"

"I am deeply concerned for the well being of Gandalf. I was to meet with him four days ago at the Tower of Amon Sul for what he claimed to be an urgent matter. After two days and a night of waiting, I received no word. I began to track him and followed him to Isengard where the tracks ended. The White Wizard Saruman met with me almost immediately. He assured me that Mithrandir had come, but had left in haste nearly as soon as he had arrived in the direction of Fangorn. I attempted to pursue, and found his mare at the edge of the Forest. This result puzzled me even further and when I was convinced that the trail ran cold, I resolved to come here in the hopes of hearing your council on the matter." Aragorn fell silent.

An uneasy silence ensued, but was soon broken by Elrond's pensive response. "This is ill news indeed, Aragorn. I have seen the fires of Mount Doom, there is activity in that forsaken land and I fear the time for Mordor to unleash its evil has come." Elrond searched the eyes around the table. They looked to him for direction, yet at that moment he felt as lost as they did. _I attribute this weakness to my mortal half… _the thought was fleeting. His composure never wavered, though he hesitated before continuing. "As you may know, the One Ring has been found. It now lies in the Shire, as last I was informed, but it will not remain there for long. I know of Gandalf's journey to Isengard, he meant to seek council with Saruman the Wise and I believe he found it. It is his knowledge that makes him valuable. We must find Mithrandir before the enemy if we are not already too late."

With this he stood and began to pace the floor, hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Elladan, you will go to Lothlorien, Elrohir, you to the ancient Lamias of the Firien Wood. The two of you shall meet with Aragorn in Mirkwood in three day's time. Alert these realms that Mithrandir is missing and also tell them that I am calling to order a great council to discuss the coming darkness and the fate of the One Ring. Gather as much information as possible and offer very little. Speak only to the Lords themselves. Your mission is of the utmost importance, and secret."

"It is understood." Elladan was the first to respond, rising from his seat as if to leave at that very moment.

"You must leave tomorrow, at first light. But for now, rest and make provisions for the journey. You should sleep Aragorn, you have traveled much as of late and you will be of no help to Mithrandir if you cannot keep your eyes open." A small yet detectable smile played across the wise Elf's features.

Aragorn nodded fractionally in appreciation and also rose from his seat.

Sleep. He prayed for success in the attempt but knew better. It would be a long night.


	3. Two

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Author's note **

Hello again! I know this post is a bit early, but I couldn't resist. Thanks for the comments! I think I will aim for a once per week update. A note of caution- this story has many plot twists and is sometimes dependent on the reader's confusion, so if it seems that things are not exactly making sense, have no fear, all will be revealed in the end. Having said that, let's get on with the adventure…

-Athena

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**Two**

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"Still no word?" 

"I am sorry, my friend," came the hesitant reply.

It had been four days since their last meeting, four days since he had stood in Imladris and set out on this task. The Elvin horse had been swift and he had made good time in arriving at the court of the Silvan King Thranduil. He remained now in Mirkwood. The beautiful city was built beneath the northeastern floor of the Great Forest now known as Mirkwood. It had been necessary to escape the evil that Sauron had unleashed at Dol Guldur but had resulted in a very isolated and distrustful people. Aragorn stood above the city now, anxiously awaiting word from his brothers. They should have arrived yesterday and it was not like them to be tardy without justification. As the hours passed, his frustration and fears grew. Aragorn clenched his fist tightly at his side. "I fear for them, Legolas. First Gandalf and now Elladan and Elrohir."

The prince stood silently by the man's side, lost in his own thoughts. They stood on the veranda just above the great underground hall. The trees crowned with leaves sighed deeply in a growing wind. Aragorn, out of the corner of his eye, marveled at the peaceful expression that played across the prince's features. Legolas had closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as if catching the crest of a receding wave. It seemed that time itself had slowed to accommodate the feeling of idleness that had invaded Aragorn's spirit. "What do they say?" He ventured, speaking softly as not to disturb the Elf's concentration.

After a moment more of silence, Legolas at last spoke. "They too search for Mithrandir. The trees whisper his name, but they know not where he has gone."

"There is darkness at work, of that I have no doubt, but it is a greater darkness than I had imagined. I cannot linger here any longer." The ranger turned to Legolas resolutely. "Thank you for your hospitality, my friend. I will take my leave of your father at once and head south to Lamias in the Firien Wood."

"You would go to Lamias before Lorien?" Legolas questioned. He had heard rumors that the Whispering Wood, as it was also known, had once again sheltered an Elvin kingdom. He knew next to nothing about Lamias itself, only that they had vanished for centuries only to now, very recently by elfish reckoning, reappear just in time to witness Sauron's awakening.

Aragorn met his gaze with gentle green eyes, and then averted his eyes to look outward on the forest. "I worry for both of them, but I am unfamiliar with the peoples of Lamias and my heart, or my instinct, draws me to find Elrohir. I can explain it in no other way. If I stop in Lorien, much time will be lost…"

Legolas nodded, then smiled mischievously. "We will send word to Lord Elrond alerting him to the situation before our departure."

Aragorn arched an eyebrow. "We?"

"Of course, mortal. Do you expect me to bide my time here while my friends face great danger?"

At this, the man smiled sincerely. He remembered fondly his first meeting with the prince; it had not been a pleasant one. The elves of Mirkwood were wary of outsiders in general and especially did not take kindly to the idea of an Elf Lord, be it Elrond or otherwise, fostering a mortal child. It was a strange thing for a man to be raised as an elf. When they had first met, Legolas had been far from hospitable and Aragorn doubted that they would ever be civil let alone friends. But much had changed since then. Countless adventures later, a bond had solidified between the two and Aragorn knew that he would not prefer any other to ride beside him into light or darkness. He trusted Legolas deeply, as deeply as his own brothers, and knew that the trust was returned. "In truth, Legolas, I knew you could not resist. I would be honored to have you by my side." He extended his arm forwards and Legolas took it in friendship.

"We will find them, Estel."

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King Thranduil had not been pleased when Legolas had informed him of their present mission. He had not been displeased either. He feared for the safety of his youngest son, but knew well that he would be needed as not only a valuable warrior for Light, but to represent the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood at the council that Lord Elrond would call. For these reasons, he consented with his blessing as the two prepared to leave. 

He had given them all they would need, ensured that they had food for weeks of journey as well as other provisions.

They stood now, together on the terrace for a final farewell. The King spoke in a deep voice, "A messenger has been sent to Rivendell bearing word of these recent events. Another has been sent to Lorien to inquire after the young prince. I do not trust news of such high importance to be carried by any other than my personal guards."

"Thank you, my Lord." Aragorn replied, with a slight bow as a show of respect.

"May the Valar bless you and grant you success in this grave quest. For if Mithrandir is truly lost to darkness, our situation has become dire indeed."

Having said all that needed to be said, the two companions made their way to their mounts and trotted down the path that promised to lead them from the dense forest to its most southern border. They rode in silence for some time, hours, traveling at a maddening pace. The horses were well rested and had been prepped for the urgency of this task. They were prepared to go a day without rest if need be and Aragorn was glad for it. He felt helpless and uncertain. He hated the feeling, hated not having control over the situation. They continued to ride, squeezing firmly at the heels and holding tightly to the reigns. If they kept this pace and stopped only long enough to water the horses, they would arrive within two days.

The terrain was dense and green; life whirled past them as they rode on. Legolas gazed warily at Dol Guldur in the distance, visible only to his keen Elvin eyes. There was great evil in that place, evil that had driven his people to the most northeastern regions of the fair wood that was his home. Nothing about this situation seemed right. His own concern matched Aragorn's worry for his brothers and for Gandalf. Their road to the Firien Wood could not be considered scenic and instead was as dark as they come. He knew not what dangers lie in the future, what wars would come of this forgotten Ring and dark prophecy, but he did know that it had begun.

As the light began to fade and the sun to set, hopes of maintaining their pace were dashed. With the rolling night came rolling thunder, alerting the two companions to a coming storm which gave no apparent care for their needs of good travel conditions.

Legolas pulled his horse to a momentary halt. He gazed upward at the sky in disdain. "A storm approaches rapidly," he spoke, motioning to the graying sky and dramatic cloud formations. The horses were restless, sensing the shift in weather and the impending difficulties a tempestuous rain would bring. They had stopped at the very edge of the forest, before them lay open plains that marked the territory just north of Rohan. They had reached the blighted Brown Lands.

Aragorn frowned. "We will find shelter and attempt to wait it out. A few hours and we will fly, storm or not."

"Agreed," Legolas murmured absently, still in thought. He continued after a moment, shaking his head slightly. "It is half a night's hard ride to the Eastern Shore of the Anduin from this place. I would feel better if we could reach the river, I like not these plains. They are ruined and death looms here like a shadow. We will be quite vulnerable to an attack."

Again, Aragorn nodded. With increased orc activity throughout the realm, especially since Gandalf's disappearance, it would be wise to get off the plains. The Brown Lands were damned, destroyed by Sauron. They were now a phantasm of the past, a reminder of the Entwives and of the great suffering that had occurred in the first war of Sauron's One Ring. The Dunedain had made it policy to avoid this region unless unavoidably necessary. Aragorn knew that this was one of those instances. He turned to Legolas, gently pulling the reigns of his horse to calm its nervous movements. "Let us ride, then, Legolas. We have need of haste."

With that they were off again, as if attempting to beat the storm itself, remaining barely a step ahead of the booming thunder and electrifying lightening. The sun had long since set when Legolas finally spoke, the horses' strides unbroken. "Aragorn! I can see the bank, it is not far now!"

And suddenly Aragorn saw it too, at a distance but visible to his eye at least. The dense trees of the banks were in sharp and welcome contrast to the bland wasteland that was the Brown Lands. He longed to reach the foliage to take refuge in a formation of stone and rest from their weary travels. They would need one hour. He felt the drops of rain, large and full, on his neck and face. The water was shockingly cold, sending a slight shiver down his spine as the shower intensified. Hey would not stop now. He knew that Legolas was of the same mind. They would make it to the Anduin and worry about all else later.

They reached the banks drenched and tired. Legolas was the first to dismount. He led his weary steed by the reigns, surveying the green area for some means of shelter. It was well into the night now. The night was dark; the storm had swallowed all of the stars in the sky as if to forbid even the faintest beam of light from illuminating their dark way. The rain was relentless now, coming down in sheaths it flooded the ground and made earth slick deep with mud. It was not long before they found a small formation of rock, three great stones supporting a very large, flat slab. It was a sign that they had reached South Undeep and were practically at the feet of the Emyn Muil. It made for a cozy escape from the harsh weather. After securing the horses and removing the packs the two nestled into their hiding spot, praying to the Valar that in two hours time the storm would pass but knowing that they would continue on regardless.

"I am glad that you are with me, Legolas. Had it not been for the gravity of our task, I may have enjoyed this trip. Long has it been since we quested together." Aragorn's voice was soft, sincere.

Legolas managed a small smile. "Too long, my friend."

They fell silent. After an earlier dispute of who should rest first, the two resolved that they would keep watch together, since neither could bring themselves to sleep. To the north was Lorien, where Elladan had endeavored. Aragorn had made the choice to seek Elrohir first. He could not explain the pain in his heart or the fear and suspicion he felt towards the mysterious lands of Lamias. But he knew that Lothlorien was safe and that the Lady Galadriel would let no harm come to Elladan. By this time King Thranduil's guard would have reached Lorien. As they rested, Aragorn knew that bowmen from the fair Elvin city were searching for Elladan. He could not say the same for the younger twin. "Legolas, what do you know of this Lamias. In all my years in Rivendell I have studied them very little and was not aware of their continued existence until just a few years ago."

"I know little. Lamias was a great Elvin city in the Firien Wood in the ancient days, but they fell out of communion with Middle- Earth some time ago. Many had speculated that they had left to the Undying Lands, others believed that Sauron had destroyed them. I like it not that they are suddenly so interested in the affairs of Rivendell. Part of me is relieved to see that they survive, while the other-"

"Is suspicious." Aragorn finished his phrase and the elf smiled.

"Yes. Exactly. I think you chose wisely in coming after Elrohir first." Again silence. "How was it, returning to Rivendell? How fares Lord Elrond?" His tone was casual, but even Legolas could not conceal the deeper curiosity and the hidden question that he dare not ask outwardly.

Aragorn was taken by surprise by the sudden change in subject. He warmed his hands by the small fire they had constructed, feeling a sudden chill. "Difficult and wonderful at the same time." He turned to look at Legolas. "I couldn't help but be reminded of her with every step, every flower, every star. And with her memory comes the memory of my parting from Rivendell, and of Elrond's anger. Knowing that she is in Lorien lessens my worry for Elladan."

Legolas sighed sympathetically. "She is strong, Aragorn. It is her choice to make and there is nothing that you or Elrond can say to it. Let the memory of her love give you strength in these times and despair not over what the future holds." He placed a reassuring hand on Aragorn's damp shoulder. The ranger smiled in appreciation.

"Leave it to an elf to offer good advice." He smirked, a hint of sarcasm playing in his tone.

"We are known to be the wiser race," Legolas retorted before settling back against the hard rock behind him. The stone was cold and uncomfortable. For the first time since the rain had begun, the elf lowered his hood. Golden hair streamed from to his shoulder. He absently brushed it behind his ears and settled back, but did not sleep. Instead came a whisper, "Lye naa tire".

"I know," came the whispered reply, "But I know not whether it be the enemy or not. What ever tracks us has great skill in concealment. I wouldn't have known-"He stopped suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

The elf nodded, seemingly alert before Aragorn could utter the words. He had pulled his hood over his head, every muscle tensing. The sound was louder now, a rustle of leaves and brush. The untrained ear may have taken it for a rustling of wind in the tempest beyond, but nothing could escape the uncanny hearing of an elf.

* * *

He crouched low in the brush, his cloak soaked with rain but strangely resilient to the water keeping his body warm and dry within. He observed in silence, a lone pair of watchful eyes set on the dimly lit stone formation. He did not know whether they knew of his presence, he did not care.

* * *

Aragorn quickly put out the fire, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. Legolas drew his bow in one fluid motion, almost simultaneously drawing forth an arrow from his quiver. He held it menacingly, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Aragorn's hazel green spheres. 

Legolas mouthed the word, barely a whisper. "Orcs-"

"How many?" came the reply. Silence as Legolas listened intently.

"I would guess twenty, probably a patrol," he replied. Suddenly his eyes widened in surprise. "Watch out!" the elf demanded, pouncing forward to push Aragorn to the ground. They tumbled to the drenched earth in time to watch the dagger fly over their heads.

Aragorn cursed inwardly. "I knew this had been too easy!" He mused, getting to his feet and drawing his sword in its entire splendor and glory.

Legolas too was on his feet, gracefully stringing his bow as the full force of the orc patrol emerged from the trees to surround them. Aragorn blinked feverishly, trying to rid his eyes of the blurring droplets of rain that relentlessly continued to fall from an angry sky. First five, then ten, more than thirty orcs emerged, snarling and growling. But they did not yet attack. Aragorn and Legolas stood ready.

"Twenty, eh? Aragorn murmured.

Legolas shrugged slightly. "We have seen worse odds," he murmured back. "What are they waiting for?"

As if in answer, the line of orcs parted slowly, down the center, as a tall figure strode towards them, emerging form the shadows. It was hideous and was reminiscent of an orc, only fowler and larger in stature. It stood a good two feet above the rest. But perhaps most shocking of all was the white emblem painted freshly across its repulsive face.

Neither Aragorn nor Legolas could stifle a gasp of shock. Aragorn raised his guard even more so. For one tense moment they stood unmoving, the demon staring directly into their souls. Then the moment was shattered.

"ATTACK!" The leader of the patrol roared, setting the entire line into motion.

The orcs came at them quickly, fiercely. Legolas let his arrows fly, dodging and ducking while keeping perfect form. He blocked an oncoming dagger with his forearm, countering with a swift knee to the orcs gut. He elbowed backwards felling another and having just enough time to swing his bow over his shoulder and draw the two Elvin daggers from their sheaths.

Aragorn was bombarded by three orcs at once. With expert precision he slashed then stabbed sending to of the three to their deaths. Dark blood seeped into the absorbent earth, mixing with the falling rain. Four more replaced the fallen two forcing him to duck and slide, using the slick ground to his advantage. He swept the orcs from their feet, then sprang up and finished them with the blade. Aragorn looked up for a space to see how his friend fared, but could not rest long. Still they came.

He was getting tired. These were difficult odds even by elf standards. Legolas again took up his bow, showering an oncoming line with silver arrows, which knew not how to miss.

Aragorn looked up from another fallen orc, eyes wide in worry. " Legolas, behind you!" came the warning.

Legolas turned in time to see the blade sailing towards him, the head orc close enough to crush him. Legolas blocked as best he could, but was forced to drop his bow. The large orc backhanded him ruthlessly and Legolas collapsed to the ground, momentarily stunned but the explosion of pain in his head and the swiftness of the blow. Had orcs always been this strong? He got quickly to his feet in time to be slashed by the dagger. The enormous orc grabbed the elf by the scruff of the neck and pulled him near, dagger poised and ready. Legolas braced for the impact, knew he could not prevent it.

But the pain did not come. A high pitched sound sung through the air as an arrow found its mark, burying itself within the orcs chest. Legolas gasped in surprise as he was suddenly released. It was not his arrow! He whirled around in time to see a figure moving through the foliage, hidden in the shadows. His gaze was ripped away from their mysterious ally by the threat at hand. The orc was not yet dead. Legolas jumped back, then drew his daggers and attacked. He sliced up, then down, black blood oozing.

It began to laugh. The sound sent shivers down his spine. Legolas stepped back in amazement and terror. "Foolish little elf. Stand now and feel the wrath of the Uruk-hai!"

Aragorn pounced, finally free from his attackers. In one graceful swoop he lunged at the orc leader and sliced cleanly, lopping off its head. The oversized orc body fell with a thud before Legolas who could only stare at Aragorn in confusion. The forty orc bodies littered the ground. None remained. They had fallen by Aragorn's sword and Elvin skill, but also by the arrows of another.

"What _was_ that?" Legolas exclaimed, eyes fixated on the fallen body.

Aragorn shook his head in amazement, sheathing his sword. He stood beside Legolas and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I know not. But it bears the White hand of Isengard." He replied, lowering his voice.

"It referred to itself as Uruk-hai. This was no mere orc, Aragorn. There is much evil at work and if Isengard is involved- do you think they have taken Saruman the White as well?"

Aragorn turned from Legolas, shaking his head. "Given the other possibility it would be my hope. But I fear this treachery runs deeper than we know. What if Saruman has joined with Sauron?"

Legolas shivered involuntarily. He sheathed his daggers and bent to reclaim his bow from beneath a fallen body. "It is not an idea I would like to entertain," the elf mumbled. The rain had subsided somewhat. He lowered his hood and took in a deep breath. "Let us hope for the best and prepare for the worst."

Aragorn managed a small smile. "Again, I am humbled by your exceptional advice." He moved to their camp and began to assemble the packs. "In either case, we cannot linger here. I think you'll agree that we should take advantage of this break in the storm. Are you injured?"

Legolas' hand went absently to the bruise on his cheek, then the cut on his arm. "A scratch. I am fine. How fare you, Strider?" He asked, noticing for the first time the red stain at the ranger's side.

"Aye, a scratch as well. It will not hinder me. We are still a day's ride from Lamias." He handed a pack to Legolas who casually swung it over his shoulder. They made their way to the horses. "Day will break soon. We will arrive in the evening if all goes well." Aragorn was saying, but Legolas was not entirely listening. There was one mystery left unresolved from their recent battle, one missing piece to the puzzle.

As they readied to mount, Legolas took hold of Aragorn's arm. "Those were not my arrows," he whispered.

"I know. He is the one who has been tracking us. At least we know now that he is not with the enemy. We cannot worry about it now." With that Aragorn mounted. Legolas followed suit.

"Still, something is amiss." He murmured. With that they were off once again, heading south beside the Anduin to Eastfold which would lead them to the Firien Wood.

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**Translations:  
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_Lye naa tire_ We are being watched


	4. Three

**Author's Note**

Hello again! Thanks to my four reviewers, it is so motivating and exciting (a thrill really!) to read your comments and I am very grateful. Also, a speical thanks to Nietta for the advice:) Here is the next chapter- I am updating because school is beginning and I don't know what next week will hold. I hope you enjoy it!

-Athena

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**Three**

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_Have I crossed? _The thought was half formed, fleeting. He was disconnected, as though merely a spirit hovering above a tangible world but forbidden to participate in it. 

"We found him in the woods, we feared the worst."

Voices. There were definitely voices to be heard. He was flying…or falling…it was a darkness from which he could not easily emerge and for his part was in no hurry to escape. The voices drifted farther from his current reality, become mumbled whispers, then suddenly returning with blasting full force.

"This cannot be happening….how did such evil come to pass?"

Was it shock that he heard? Alarm? Concern? Panic? The validity of these emotions was far from his mind. Should he not also be concerned, if for no other reason than simply for the fact that he could not associate himself with anything physical let alone a body?

A name, someone called his name.

Someone was weeping.

And suddenly there was pain to be felt. He longed to ease the suffering, the despair of the strangely familiar presence that he could not yet place. She cried for him. For that reason alone, for the pain in his soul at hearing such a sorrowful lament on his behalf, he struggled to reach for any sort of light that may lead him from his present darkness. He found it, faint but there, and as he looked towards it with ghostly vision, he felt his essence grounded, slowly returning to someplace that was familiar.

"He lives!"

With the light came pain, pain beyond comprehension. But darkness was no longer an option. He had won, for now, a bittersweet victory. His prize a sudden, shuddering breath, lungs that were his own, filling with air…

He opened his eyes.

* * *

The rest of the journey had been somewhat uneventful. 

They reached the White Mountains after four days of travel and road through the canyons of sheer rock until finally the forest within was revealed. When they finally arrived at the edge of the wood, Aragorn pulled lightly on the reigns signaling his horse to stop. He dismounted, then crouched low to the ground, touching the rich soil with his hands. There were leaves cluttering the forest floor, and a few patches of grass scattered about, as if pushing through the blanket of fallen leaves. A blade broken here, a few crushed there. Aragorn sighed in acknowledgement, unable to deny the sure signs that this road had been tread by Elvin horse hooves. " Elrohir came this way-" he reported, getting to his feet.

Legolas had remained mounted, watching the ranger work. Aragorn had great skill in tracking and Legolas was certain that if anyone could find Elrohir, it would be Aragorn. It had been five days since their encounter with the orcs at the banks of the Anduin. The rain had slowed them considerably, as had their shallow wounds and lack of sleep. The two continued on, tired yet determined, constantly aware that every moment wasted in travel was a moment in which their friends could be in peril.

And yes, they were being followed.

Legolas watched wordlessly as the ranger mounted. He kicked lightly at his horse's rear, trotting to a halt beside his friend. The richly green forest lay before them in all its splendor. Its trees were tall, far taller than those of Mirkwood. Legolas wondered how they would compare to the trees of Fangorn. He had never been to the Firien Wood or to Fangorn for that matter. The stories of his youth described the later forest as ancient beyond countable years and Legolas could only imagine the wild heights trees of that forest aspired to. The trees themselves were rich with color, the wood dark, nearly as pitch. The greens, however, existed in too many shades to count. It was a hidden wood, protected by the sheer White Mountains which isolated it from the outside world. They trotted forward at a steady yet slower pace reflecting their need for caution. The arrangement of the trees was puzzling, almost as though it were planned. Dense forest seemed to line a cleared path into the wood and Aragorn and Legolas had no choice but to follow it.

"This forest is remarkable-" the elf conceded, unable to stifle his growing wonder.

Aragorn could not help but smile. He was well aware of Legolas' admiration and love of forests and trees. It seemed that they brought the elf a sense of peace and balance. "Again, it is a shame that we make this journey with such a somber purpose. I should have liked to explore this area more," he replied.

"We will have to come back," Legolas mused, a glint in his eye. "Although it seems whenever I am in your company, good ranger, mischief and mayhem follow."

Aragorn arched an eyebrow. "As I recall, Prince, you volunteered," and then added, "as you always do."

Legolas could no longer stifle the small smile that brightened his features. "Fair enough." He would let the man have this round. After all, he _had_ volunteered.

The path twisted for what seemed like endless miles until finally, the forest changed. It was somehow more dense, more full. Legolas knew that they were nearing the very heart of the forest. The magnificence only multiplied as the forest seemed to ooze with ethereal light and powerful enchantment. The trees were thicker, the leaves greener, and the air strangely heavier. _Strange… _he thought to himself. _for a Whispering Wood, the trees are awfully silent… _Before he had time to contemplate this much longer they arrived at what Legolas knew to be a gate, a sort of boundary marking the bounds of the Elvin city of Lamias. The gate was not made of wood or ore, but instead a line of closely grown trees, whose heights were obscured in the canopy above. The line clearly blocked the crafted path they had followed and was a significant change from the casually scattered pattern the Firien trees had previously kept to. Dazzling sparkles of sunlight trickled down from above, illuminating everything in a surreal glow.

Upon nearing the line of trees, both Aragorn and Legolas slowed their steeds, then dismounted, leading the horses by the reigns as they cautiously approached the city's boundary. It seemed strange to Aragorn that the place be so open, so easily accessed. He could feel the heavy enchantment looming, a more stifling presence than he had ever remembered feeling in Rivendell or Mirkwood or even Lorien. Legolas was close behind him, he knew. They were merely a few feet now from the line. Could it be that simple, just to walk forward and-

" What?" Aragorn gasped, meaning to walk straight through the line, but finding it impossible. He bumped into something quite solid and stumbled back slightly.

" Amazing, what sorcery is this?" Legolas gasped, eyes wide in awe.

As Aragorn stepped away, their vision changed. Suddenly, there was no clear path through the line of trees, there never had been. A wall of leaves and vines and bush, extending at least twenty feet above them stood firmly before them. It had been camouflaged, impossible to see unless looked for. The trees, like towers, lined the wall and the leaves and vines grew thickly between, as strong as any stone fortress could be.

A sudden swoosh of air ending in a dull thud captured their divided attention. While it was sudden, it was not altogether a surprise.

Legolas and Aragorn lifted their hands in submission. " We mean no harm," Aragorn raised his voice in explanation. Its deep tone resonated through the seemingly empty forest. " I am of the Dunedain of the north and am known as Strider."

" And I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood, once Greenwood the Great."

Again, Legolas found himself in awe as the illusion of isolation was shattered. Figures emerged from the tree trunks, as if having been part of the wood itself. They brandished dark wood bows. Their cloaks were a dark brown, lightly speckled in shades of gray and sienna, the color of the bark. Their hair was long and also dark, like the elves of Imladris. Amidst them Legolas' brilliant hair and pale complexion seemed exotic. They did not speak. Instead they emerged, fully armed, and proceeded to surround the trespassers.

Of the ten elves, one emerged lowering his bow, yet keeping it in a calculating grip. The air was still. The tension surmounted even the moments spent in the previous days in wait of the orc attack. Finally, he spoke. " I am Dalinor, captain of the northward guard. What is your purpose." He was a tall elf, sturdy yet slight. His icy blue eyes were fixed on Legolas, seeming not to acknowledge the edain's presence.

" We seek an audience with King Elimerel of Lamias." Legolas spoke, his voice almost musical.

Dalinor's stare was hard, his eyes narrowed in growing suspicion. They seemed earnest in their request, no weapons drawn, no sign of evil intention. But then, things were not always as they seemed. They were clearly travel worn, their eyes weary, their cloaks stained and torn. And they were wounded. _Strange, an elf and anedan traveling together as if… it is preposterous. And the name, Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, surely the King will desire to speak with him… _In all his long years he had never seen such a fair elf. Though he had been told of the light features of the elves of the Great Wood, he had never traveled to those realms. In all his long years…He did not like it, could sense that the outlanders' presence would only lead to trouble. However, they posed no immediate threat and their request was well founded. Perhaps they brought a message from the outside? In either case, friend or foe, it was for his King to judge.

"And you shall have it," the captain replied, at length. "Surrender your bows and blades to my men. Your horses will be cared for presently." As he spoke, two of the surrounding elves lowered their own weapons and began to take those of the foreigner's. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged an uneasy glance and then hesitantly complied. "I will lead you into the city."

* * *

Tap. 

Tap.

Tap.

"Enter," came the deeply resonating reply. "What is it?"

" An elf, sire, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, and one of the edain, a Dunadan of the north. We have apprehended them on the northern border. They have requested an audience…" the messenger bowed low before straightening to await his orders.

There was silence for the space of a moment as the ominous figure, cloaked in shadow, seemed to consider the report. " They have, have they? Very well, send them in."

The messenger, with a nod, turned quickly and descended the stairs, disappearing from view.

King Elimerel sat alone, on a throne of dark Firien wood, intricately engraved in the ancient Elvin tongue of his predecessors. The hall was open, airy. It was a large room reminiscent of a large gazebo. The landing was flanked on all sides by stairs and the thick stone pillars, which lined the borders as walls, suspending a tall ceiling. It was a formal meeting place, a place where the King would hold court and pass judgment. It was elegant and intricate, the stone pillars smooth as marble yet strong as iron. Now, in the fading shades of twilight, the torches had yet to be lit, and the streams of fading rays flooded the room between the pillars, casting alternating streaks of light and shadow. The throne itself was set three steps higher than the floor, its elevation a symbol of the King's office and majesty.

He knew they had come. He had been watching them since they had entered the forest.

He watched now, as they two were led in. They walked with a dignified air, their faces the picture of composure. Elimerel smiled to himself, yet maintained an outwardly unreadable expression. He too could play this game. " Leave us," he spoke. With that, Dalinor motioned to his troop to take their places guarding the pillars surrounding the open hall. As they spoke, the torches were lit, bathing the room in a golden glow.

His expression softened ever so slightly. " Welcome to Lamias, friends. What business have you with the King of the Whispering Wood?"

Aragorn eyed the king in suspicion. His stature was somewhat larger than that of the average elf. He sat tall on his throne, hand clasped firmly around a golden scepter, the other resting on the arm of the throne. He wore long, flowing robes, the color of crimson red and flaming bronze. It was he who spoke first. He bowed slightly in respect, then replied, " My lord, I am called Strider, Chieftain of the Dunedain of the north, and I have been sent by the will of Elrond to your court." He could not yet assess the King's hospitality and his suspicions grew with every passing moment of intensified silence.

The King's eyes narrowed slightly. Then suddenly, his entire composure changed. The king sat back, relaxing his posture slightly and softened the steely gaze that bore into the souls of the outsiders. "Please continue, good ranger," he requested, puling the scepter to rest on his lap.

"We have come in search of another who was sent before us. Elrohir of Imladris, Lord Elrond's son, was sent to your court bringing word of Gandalf's disappearance- He was due in Mirkwood two days prior but we have heard no word to explain is absence." He was careful with his words, still not fully trusting the strange elf king.

" Yes, he was here. I remember the elf you speak of, Elrohir. I assure you he stayed but one night and then insisted on continuing his journey the following morning. He left Lamias five days ago, with ample provisions and a message for his Lord." There was a moment of silence.

Legolas shot a sideways glance at Aragorn who nodded slightly. Their fears were confirmed, Elrohir was missing…

"I am greatly troubled by this news you bring. Please, you will stay in Lamias as my guests and will be treated with our utmost hospitality. I must apologize for the manner and mood of my people, we are of an ancient line and do not trust easily. Long has it been since I have looked on one of the edain and also one of the fair woodland elves such as yourself, prince Legolas of Mirkwood. I will do everything in my power to help you find Elrohir." With that, he rapped twice on the stone ground with his long scepter. Within an instant Dalinor appeared with two guards behind him.

"We thank you for your kindness, Lord Elimerel," Legolas spoke, with a bow.

" In these times of darkness, good prince, kindness is a rare gift. I am simply returning that which Lord Elrond and King Thranduil have shown me. It is the least I can do." He smiled warmly, then straightened. " Dalinor will show you to a healer. Your wounds need dressing and you are both weary with travel. After you've taken some rest you will join me for dinner and we will discuss how to proceed. I am sure that you have many questions and for my part I will do my best to help you."

With that Dalinor stepped forward and motioned for his guards to return their weapons. Then he nodded curtly and turned on his heel. "Follow me please," he spoke as he lead them out of the great hall.

Elimerel watched them leave, his expression returning to its original somber frown. _So it begins… _

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**Dun Dun DOOOONNE...until next time!**


	5. Four

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**Author's Note**

So I am posting a day earlier than I had planned. It is always so exciting to post, but ...it's even more exciting to hear feedback! Is anyone out there still reading? I would love to hear what you think. I hope that all is well with you all (that is whoever may be reading this note...) and that you enjoy the next chapter. Well, let's get on with it then ...!

-Athena

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**Four**

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Legolas closed his eyes, willing his concentration to hold. With the conclusion of dinner came the commencement of discussion, serious discussion. Legolas observed now, as Aragorn spoke across a large, circular table to a captive audience. At the head seat was King Elimerel himself. To Aragorn's right sat Dalinor. Various elf captains from the ranks of Elimerel's guard occupied the remaining three seats. Legolas shifted slightly, barely betraying his discomfort. Dalinor's gaze had been fixed on him since the meal had ended and though he did well in hiding it, Legolas was growing steadily perturbed by the rude gesture. Aragorn was saying something about Elladan and Elrohir, something more about Gandalf…his friend was very careful to give only so much information. It did not surprise the elf that Aragorn played the role of Strider to this court, it was imperative that his true identity remain concealed for as long as possible. And most importantly, he spoke nothing of…the ring. The One ring that Gandalf had spoken of, warned them of. The ring that at that very moment, not be known to the companions before Elimerel's court, was being kept by a hobbit who would come to play a much larger role before the end. 

Maybe the weariness of the weeks travel was finally catching hold of him.

Their wounds had been dressed and for that he was thankful. The meal had been excellent, far better than the lembas rations they had grown accustomed to in their short journey.

"Legolas?"

His eyes shot open. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on him, as if expectantly waiting some sort of response. He cast Aragorn a questioning stare.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes in confusion. It was near impossible to catch an elf off his guard, let alone to catch Legolas off of his guard. " The orcs, what did you make of them?" He repeated, masking concern with casual patience.

"They bore the white hand of Saruman, a sign that can only lead us to believe that Saruman is in fact allied with the Dark Lord." Legolas responded, coolly.

" This is ill news indeed, for the White Wizard is a terrible force to reckon with." Elimerel replied, his face grim, his words low.

Aragorn watched the King's reaction closely. " My lord, we must find Mithrandir. If the dark Lord has indeed returned and the legends are true, we have no hope without him. I believe he has been taken to Isengard."

Silence ensured, a long, tense absence of speech.

"I suggest that the two of you get some sleep. You are weary with travel and your wounds require rest for healing. I will consider all that you have told me and will inform you of Lamias' decision on the morrow. Of course, Lamias will stand by Lord Elrond and his allies, but in what manner we will support, that has yet to be determined." Elimerel stood smoothly, everyone at the table followed suit, chairs slid against the smooth wood floor. " Until then do not be troubled. You are safe here. Do not hesitate if you need something, my people will see to it."

"Thank you," Both Aragorn and Legolas replied, bowing curtly.

With that, they turned to exit the meeting room, followed closely by the three less familiar elves. Dalinor remained and now, turned to his guests.

"I will show you to your chambers."

Legolas closed his eyes briefly, steadied himself, then followed after Dalinor who had not noticed.

It had been nearly impossible to notice Legolas' slight hesitation. But only nearly, for Aragorn was observing him now, very closely, a shadow of concern growing in his mind. A sudden wave of…dizziness? Had he risen too quickly? The blood loss had not been much, and as an elf he would heal quickly. He would question the elf later, but for the present he would remain as alert as possible.

To put it simply, he did not trust the King of Lamias.

There was something in his eyes at the mention of Isengard, something hidden behind the gray, attentive spheres. He had not been surprised as the other captains had. Something was not right….

* * *

"Legolas-" 

No response.

"Legolas?"

The elf stirred slightly.

Aragorn frowned in disapproval. He had only been gone a moment, a quick survey of their surroundings after Dalinor had left them to their room. They were in the hollow of a great tree, as all of the sleeping quarters were. The Lamias elves were a quiet, mysterious people. Save for the central structure of Lisabeth, where the throne room and meeting hall were constructed, the settlement was composed of the clustered and ancient trees of the Firien Wood. They were mostly hollowed at the trunk, large enough to fit several elves. The arrangement suited them well as it provided not only shelter but protection as, on the outside, the trees seemed nothing more than that. Had it not been for Lisabeth, the city would seem nothing more than a glowing grove. He had left Legolas but for a moment, and now returned to find the elf lying on his small bed, deeply lost in what seemed to be sleep. His eyes were shut…elves did not sleep with their eyes shut.

"Legolas!" Aragorn tried once more, this time sitting at the bed's edge and shaking his friend lightly.

Legolas blinked in confusion, his eyes clouded with weariness and fatigue. Slowly the mist lifted and his vision cleared. "What is it? Why must you behave so coarsely!" Legolas scowled, Aragorn's calls roaring in his brain. " …like an edan…" he mumbled, as though sincerely annoyed.

"I am an edan, Legolas," Aragorn replied, gently. The words would not have stung had he known it to be humor. But Legolas' mood was strange to him. Aragorn straightened as Legolas sat up, appearing to be fully awake. "Listen to me, my friend. There is evil here, I am certain o fit."

Legolas waited patiently for an explanation. " I do not trust Elimerel. To begin with, the news of Saruman's betrayal was no surprise, I saw it in his eyes. And secondly, Elrohir. Elimerel implied that Elrohir had come to this place and left, leading us to believe that he had befallen some peril on the way to Mirkwood. Tonight I have found his track, from the illusioned tree gate, but have found no tracks out of this cursed city…"

Legolas' eyes widened in disbelief. " You are suggesting that Elrohir is still here?" his voice was but a whisper. Aragorn did not respond, his silence spoke volumes. "This is ridiculous, Aragorn." Legolas murmured, swinging his legs to the side of the bed, then rising to pace the room. "Elimerel is a friend to Mirkwood and Rivendell."

"I do not pretend to know the extent of his belligerence, but I promise you, Legolas, Elrohir is here, I know it."

"You are a fool, Aragorn. Elrohir is not here, Elimerel is not evil. It cannot be, he is a just king and a friend to my father-" His voice was steadily rising.

"Peace, Legolas. Do you doubt my skill as a tracker?"

At this Legolas' eyes narrowed. "It is not your skill alone that I have doubted." Suddenly the world was spinning. Such a strange sensation. He did not intend for these words to flow, did not believe them in his heart….spinning out of control, what a strange sensation…control…

The bitter sting of his words cut through Aragorn's heart like a knife. It shocked him what power the opinion of his friend had over him. _This is not like Legolas, there is something out of place, some ill…_ "Do you doubt our friendship then? Do you no longer trust to my word?"

"Aragorn, yours is but the word of a mortal, despite your misconceived notions of identity. What is the word of mortal to the word of an elf King?"

Aragorn bit his lip and rose abruptly, desperately fighting the wave of rage and anger with threatened to crash down upon them. A moment later the wave ebbed, but only slightly. The pain was raw and struggled to keep his composure. Suddenly, anger mingled to something far worse, far more destructive, fear.

Legolas could not comprehend the words escaping his own lips. He trembled slightly, then, with effort, spoke once more. He felt for a brief moment the semblance of a lost control. "Forgive me, Estel…I am not myself…" He mumbled, overwhelmingly light headed. Aragorn's anger gave way to desperate worry as the color drained from the elves face. He took a step forward, in time to catch Legolas as his knees went numb beneath him.

"Legolas!" He exclaimed, helping his friend to stand.

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. If only the world would stop spinning. "Something…is amiss…it will pass-"

Aragorn helped him to his bed and then sat down beside him on the edge, his eyes wide with concern and fear. "Are you alright? Take some rest, Legolas. You are not well," he spoke soothingly, a reassuring hand on the elf's trembling shoulder.

Legolas nodded wearily, opening his eyes. He was relieved to find that his vision was clearing. "There, it has passed," he mumbled. "Perhaps you are correct in your suspicions, Estel. There is some evil at work here," he found his voice, feeling the clarity return to him.

Aragorn sighed in relief. Legolas was himself again, but whatever dark influence held him, the grip was tightening. Their time was running thin. "What could be causing these spells? A poison perhaps?"

"Perhaps, the effects are subtle and are only now growing more intense. The attacks began after the meal," Legolas replied. He breathed in deeply before continuing. "They seem to come in waves, swelling, crashing and then ebbing until I feel as though nothing is wrong." The vertigo still loomed too close for comfort, but he pushed his discomfort aside. At least for the moment control was his. Their situation required immediate action.

"Then it is settled. We cannot trust them. For I believe Elimerel to be holding Elrohir captive in this very city. We cannot leave before we search for him. I feel it in my heart, Legolas. He is near-"

"Then we will search, now. We will find him and we will escape to warn Lord Elrond," Legolas replied, finding his strength and rising from the bed.

Aragorn did not protest, though the fear in his heart for Legolas was amplified ten fold. Legolas hated to be coddled, and for him to admit his ailment worried Aragorn deeply. Elimerel would pay severely for the suffering Legolas was enduring. Aragorn knew well that Legolas needed healing herbs that had been left with the horses. It was the only way to counteract whatever poison they had given him. Until then, he would keep a close eye on the young prince.

* * *

Dalinor strode briskly down the dew glistened path. The sun had not yet risen and he had need of great haste. He had received the summons just minutes before and left his watch at the northern end to his second in command. Arriving at a flight of stairs, he quickly ascended and nodded curtly to two guards who stood tall at the door. They had been expecting him and opened the doors, bidding him enter. 

"Captain Dalinor, how fare our guests. Has the task been accomplished?"

The room was dimly lit. It was the private meeting hall of the King, in the dark corridors of Lisabeth. The room opened out to a large dais overlooking the glimmering city below. King Elimerel stood on the dais, his face partially hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering flames of candles lit strategically around the chamber. Dalinor took another step in and the doors were closed securely behind him. He stood now, hands behind his back in obedience. He gave a respectful bow before proceeding to speak.

"It has been done as you have commanded, my lord. The elixir has been included in their cups at the meal and they have taken it without suspicion."

He knew that Elimerel had no love for the race of men, and with good reason. Men were corrupt, power hungry. They cared not for the preservation of Middle Earth, only for their own selfish gains. He had heard the tales of old countless times over, how evil was allowed to survive and how the strength of men failed. But to harm Legolas, the son of their ally, this he could not condone. He would not keep his silence. "What must be done to the edan I understand, but he is an elf, my lord, one of our own. And a prince, no less. The potion is powerful and in too large a quantity, lethal. Surely-"

"Silence Dalinor, have you heard nothing of what I have just told you? The time for alliance has ended. Legolas and his people, our supposed kin, desire to leave Middle Earth, to give it up to the evil and corruptive ambition of men. They are cowards and deserve not the right to travel to the Grey Havens, if my opinion may be heard. I curse Lord Elrond and Thranduil. They are fools," Elimerel snarled viciously, turning briefly from the servant to look outward from the dais.

Dalinor's jaw hung slack with shock. He remained silent, confounded by the harsh words .

"The time for diplomacy has ended, Dalinor." Elimerel continued.

"Then you would join with Saruman and so with the Dark Lord Sauron, the greatest of evils? Surely you know that this corruption runs far deeper than any mankind could evoke," Dalinor erupted, no longer able to bite his tongue.

Elimerel did not chide him. He did not turn from the dais, only spoke in a low voice. "We will use Saruman. I will have the ring and with it I will destroy all that oppose me. An alliance with Saruman is necessary only until I have what I want. None can contend with the power of the One ring…"

Dalinor could not stifle a gasp. " You would wield the One ring…" He repeated. "But when…how?"

"Why do you think the gray wizard has vanished? He found the ring, and the edan knows of it. Legolas too, I would venture. They will tell us what they know, the elixir will see to that. Saruman does not realize that I am aware of this, he underestimates us, wishes to bend us to his bidding. He would have this ranger and the ring and would overthrow Sauron himself. That is his purpose. He is a fool, I have lived far too long to be manipulated by such antics." With that he turned suddenly, then paced across the floor.

Dalinor remained still as stone, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. He knew of his King's hatred and distrust of men, but he never imagined that the days of darkness would arrive so swiftly. He was young, by elf reckoning, and had not lived during the era of the first war. It was as much a myth to him as to many of his people. As a result of the war, they had lived in seclusion, total isolation in the Firien Wood for thousands of years. Only recently had Elimerel opened the lines of communication with the other Elvin cities and finally Dalinor understood his intention. Intelligence.

"What say you, Captain Dalinor? Your king now stands alone in the face of a great darkness. Do you stand by your king?" Dalinor was suddenly aware of Elimerel's icy glare fixed on his stoic face.

He nodded once, forcing himself to believe it. " I am ever on the side of light, majesty."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Looks like Elrohir is in a bit of trouble...hmm...tbc**


	6. Five

**Author's Note: **

Hello again! **Thank you ALL so much for the very helpful comments and support!**

**A quick disclaimer/warning**: While I am an _enormous_ Tolkien/LOTR fan, **I am by no means an expert!** I try my best to be accurate and add in bits of detail to compliment the plot, but the focus should be on the plot. A special thanks to **Laire** for the good and very very detailed advice, I will try watch out for the elvin/elven adjectives and have modified the mentions of Andruil and Ithilien in previous chapters etc. etc. etc. As for time frame/distances, different forms of the elvish language etc. I repeat:

**I am not an expert, nor do i wish to be. This is a hobby, a stress reliever. **

I ask that you please use your imagination!I am a full time student and while I'd love to be completely precise, it's not likely to happen. All will be revealed, regarding Elimerel's knowledge of Aragorn's identity. I think that addresses everything: ) Alright, on with the story…

-Athena

p.s. for the record… a horse can technically can go up to 100 miles in 10-12 hours (endurance racing)…so if haste was needed it is unlikely but not so unbelievable that a distance of 300 miles could be reached in 7 full days…

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* * *

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**Five**

* * *

Legolas cursed inwardly. He thought of his bow, leaning neatly against the foot of the bed in the chambers given them by the good king. _How could I be so absent minded?_ He scolded himself, cursing too the intense pain that would not relent and ever reverberated at the base of his skull. The night was dark and silent. They had made it to the horses without event. Aragorn had managed to retrieve some herbs, but they would take time to work, and they were for a more general purpose. In order to neutralize the poison Aragorn would have to identify it which would take time, time they could only achieve after escaping from this place so obviously filled with evil. So he would deal with the pain, until the herbs relieved him, _if_ they could help him at all. And to make matters all the more grim, he was without his bow. 

Aragorn glanced quickly behind him, making certain that the elf prince was close. He was worried about Legolas. The poison would only worsen and he feared for the consequences of waiting to long to neutralize it. But what could they do now? They had released the horses, sent them down river by way of the stable gate which was positioned on the edge of the city's border. Elimerel seemed not aware of their suspicions as the city was lightly guarded, the borders apparently open. But Aragorn and Legolas would not leave without Elrohir. The horses would wait some ways down the bank, ready to aid in their escape.

* * *

He watched in silence as the horses trotted away, emerging from the city he dared not enter. They disappeared in the foliage and shadow, obediently headed to their destination. He nodded in approval, a wise decision to send the horses away. They would need a means of fast escape. They would escape, though easily he doubted. But regardless he would wait, be waiting when they did emerge. It was all that he could do, for now...

* * *

"Aragorn-" Legolas murmured, coming swiftly to stand beside him. He motioned to the ground. Aragorn furrowed his brow in concern. 

A few crushed leaves and a broken branch.

There had been a struggle here.

"We are close-" Aragorn whispered back. He picked up the trail almost immediately and they followed, slipping in and out of the shadows with ease. They passed many trees that the two knew to be hollowed and occupied by some elf in slumber. But soon, the forest began to thin and the trees began to get thinner as well. They continued to track, falling deeper and deeper into the heart of Lamias, the moon waning overhead and making its own decent into darkness. As the trees thinned, Legolas got the distinct feeling that they were alone and that this portion of the city was somehow separated from the rest.

His steps were light and agile, following quickly behind Aragorn, ever alert. The scene before him was a collage of grey and black. The dark bark of the trees seemed to meld with the earth, bleeding into the ground until he could barley tell the two apart. The colors, or lack there of, continued to bleed into one another and his vision trapped in grayscale began to fade as the entire world suddenly tipped to a vertical plane. Legolas swayed, inhibited by the sudden nausea and a torrent of dizziness that flooded his entire consciousness. "Est-" he managed, before losing all feeling in his knees, which promptly gave way beneath him.

He never felt the hard ground colliding with his weakened body.

Aragorn sprang quickly to his aid, catching the suddenly pale elf in his arms and lowering him safely to the ground. " Legolas-" He whispered urgently. "Esta sinome, mellonamin. I am here," he whispered reassuringly. " Hodo, can you here me?"

Legolas' eyes fluttered open as consciousness refused to leave him. His blurred vision cleared slowly to reveal the bright blue eyes of his closest friend, livid with fear and concern. He blinked once, determinately, then nodded in answer. He opened his mouth to speak but was surprised to find such difficulty in finding his voice.

"It is as I feared, this is a possible effect of the herb I gave you earlier. While the herb will help against the poison, there are effects that can occur as a result of side reactions. The good news is this gives me much more information about the poison's identity." He helped his friend to sit up, allowing Legolas to lean against him. Legolas would _never_ willingly lean. Aragorn continued. "Unfortunately, it is a worse poison than I hoped, we must get you out of here as soon as possible."

" Not without...Elrohir..." Legolas managed, regaining his composure and some of his strength. "I will manage-" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. In truth, he prayed to the Valar for strength. While his knowledge in herb lore did not equal that of Aragorn, he too knew quite a bit about the subject. He knew enough to know that the reaction he had just experienced meant that the poison which coursed through his veins was none other than Kanine, an ancient yet potent mineral meant to subdue its victim, permanently if left untreated. Aragorn knew this as well, but was unwilling to say it aloud. He knew that time was of the essence. Legolas guessed now that it had been in his drink during the supper. The taste from the cup was metallic but at that time he thought nothing of it. Strange how the drug had no effect on humans. Legolas was sure they would have tried to drug them both, but Aragorn showed no signs of altered state, save his intense worry. _Lucky for both of us_ . The though was fleeting.

He was standing now, firmly on his feet and able to once again resume his course behind Aragorn who had continued to track. It was not long before they arrived at the center of a ring of trees, a small clearing marked by a very large and old trunk, undoubtedly hollow. It was not as large as the trunks used for their chambers, but certainly large enough for one elf-

"The tracks stop here," Aragorn whispered to Legolas, who stood beside him. His words materialized in the cold air as a white cloud, illustrating the chill that had settled in the air.

Legolas drew his dagger and approached the large tree. Aragorn followed in silence. Even more frightening than the possibility of not finding Elrohir was the possibility of finding him for they could not guess the torment he would have endured to this point from the day of his arrival in fair Lamias of the Firien Wood.

They approached the large tree without words. Aragorn laid his hands on the rough bark and slowly slid them downwards, trying to find something to betray a door or a lock. He felt a thin groove just to his right and followed it down, tracing the line patiently. "Here, it must open somehow from here..."

Legolas too searched the bark. He had sheathed his dagger now, placing both hands carefully on the tree and searching. It crumbled beneath his searching fingers and then finally- " I have found it ," He whispered, drawing away to examine the small Elvin lock fashioned of a bronze material and set among the ridges.

Aragorn drew his sword in one smooth motion. "Stand back, Legolas."

* * *

Rathim shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. It was an uneventful detail, posted at the watch ring. The tree had been untouched for some time and Rathim was sure that this night would pass as quietly as the rest. It had been long since Lamias had need of a watch guard at the Lonely Tree, and at first the assignment appealed to him. He was posted near the most dangerous variable. His alarm would mean the difference between life and death- at least that is what Dalinor told him a week ago. But now, he grew tired of this watch. 

But alas, the sun was nearly rising and his relief would arrive soon.

_SWOOSH_

_CLANG- THUD_

Rathim shot up in surprise, his eyes darting to the place below him. He could see clearly, from his perch in the trees, the two gray figures. He gasped in disbelief, shifting his gaze in time to see the hidden lock fall to the forest floor. How could he have been so foolish? Elves were supposed to be alert, yet he had been seduced by boredom and bitterness. He reached for his bow, then thought better of it. Two of the, one of him. And it was the Prince of Mirkwood and the strange ranger no less. Could he kill them? Would he be responsible for starting a war? No- he would run for help. He slung the bow on his back and easily jumped down form the tree, sprinting back towards the great hall. Dalinor would hear of this...

* * *

Legolas glanced around nervously, sure he had heard something rustling in the brush. Aragorn was reaching carefully for the wood, pulling it back... 

"No-" Aragorn fell to his knees, unable to stifle the small gasp.

Before him lay the still form of his brother, slumped limply against the interior of the tree's trunk. His hands were bound behind him, hidden from view. Aragorn quickly knelt beside him, a gentle hand moving swiftly to the elf's bruised neck. "He is alive-" he sighed at last, relief flooding his voice. Legolas let out a breath he had not intended to hold.

Elrohir may have seemed in peaceful slumber had it not been for the extremely pale skin and awkwardly bent leg which Legolas knew, with a sinking heart, to be broken. The shadows cast a wicked shade over his fallen form, making it nearly impossible to assess the extent from his injuries in the wooden prison.

"Elrohir-" Aragorn whispered softly, urgently, his voice betraying his concern.

Elrohir made no sign of acknowledgment, did not stir. Aragorn fought against the tide of panic which threatened to pull him under with crashing force. "Elrohir-" his voice louder.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. " Let us get him out of this darkness, mellonamin. Too long have they kept him in these shadows..." Legolas whispered, bending to one knee behind Aragorn. His own anger raged within him. They claimed to be _elves_ . How could they be so cruel to their own kin? Such morbid evil. Prolonged darkness to an elf is worse than death itself, like a living hell. Legolas shivered involuntarily. How longed had they kept his friend here like this? Without light, without hope? He felt hot tears well at the thought of their last meeting. Elrohir, mounted proud and strong, waving farewell as they parted ways in the forests surrounding Imladris. And now he lay still, in shadow, the spark extinguished-

They moved forward and, each caring for a side, gently eased the elf from the confines of the tree. Aragorn quickly cut the ropes tied mercilessly around his wrists. He cradled his brother in his arms, letting Elrohir's back rest against his chest. Elrohir's head fell to Aragorn's shoulder. By the light of the moon Legolas could see that outwardly Elrohir was not badly beaten. A tin line of blood from a head wound immediately caught his attention. " Probably a result of his capture," he murmured, proceeding with the examination.

Aragorn whispered words of encouragement to his brother, slipping naturally into the elfish tongue of their youth. "Uuma dela Elrohir, you are safe now."

" His leg is broken," Legolas whispered, gently prodding at the twisted limb. "Probably a result of falling from his horse- He must have been ambushed," Legolas continued, holding the leg more firmly to feel for the broken bones. The leggings were stained with blood as a shard of bone broke through the skin.

Aragorn and Legolas tensed as Legolas' ministrations elicited a low groan from their formerly unresponsive friend. "Elrohir?" Legolas tested tentatively.

"Legolas," Aragorn's grey eyes met Legolas' blue ones in a tense moment. " It must be corrected," he whispered, his voice shaky but firm.

Legolas nodded, understood. Better to do it now than when Elrohir regained his consciousness fully. He took in a breath. "You must hold him, it will cause him much pain," he spoke, his voice above a whisper.

Aragorn nodded, holding Elrohir tighter. "Be strong, my brother, it will be better soon.." he murmured as Legolas readied to proceed. He positioned himself before them, taking the leg gently in his hands. He glanced up at Aragorn and with a slight nod, pulled with great might.

Elrohir arched in pain, a strangled cry escaping his pale lips. His eyes were clenched tightly shut as he desperately struggled to escape his perceived captors grasp. Aragorn spoke words to soothe him but they had no apparent affect as Elrohir was lost in world of torment.

Finally Legolas laid the corrected leg to rest. He removed his cloak and bound it firmly about the broken limb to ensure it would heal. Thankfully, elves healed very quickly, gift from the Valar. Elrohir had settled now, his strength leaving him. He trembled uncontrollably, his body recovering from the shock it had endured.

"Elrohir, hear my voice and come back to the light," Legolas whispered in elfish, a hand resting gently on his pale face.

Elrohir knew nothing but pain, the worst pain he had ever experienced, or at least it seemed that way. And then suddenly it was gone, as swiftly as it had come. Before that he knew darkness, an impenetrable darkness robbing him of air, of light, of life. But there had been no pain there...leading him to believe that his situation had somehow changed. Slowly feeling returned to his numbed body as he felt the soft rays of moonlight...light...beckoning for him to open his eyes...in that moment he became aware of many other things. Voices, whispers, calling his name, and strong arms around his chest.

Grey eyes fluttered open, blinking drowsily in confusion. "Le-golas?" He rasped, his voice rough from days without use. The Prince of Mirkwood smiled brightly before him, his intense gaze broken suddenly by the pure relief which shown in his eyes.

"Welcome back, mellonamin," He professed.

Elrohir suddenly became aware of the presence behind him. " Aragorn?" He breathed, the drowsiness willed away, but the confusion only thickening. " But how-" he gasped suddenly as the memories returned as a swift gust of wind. " Firien! I mean Lamias- there is danger here. We must not linger, you should not have come here!"

Aragorn's voice was soothing, confident. "Easy, brother. You have endured much, please try to calm yourself. Elimerel is in league with Sauron, of that we are certain. Now that we have found you, we will leave this place and warn father of this new danger." His thoughts fell to Elladan. _Valar protect him_ A full explanation would have to wait.

"Tell me, Elrohir. I have seen your leg, do you suffer from any other wound?"

Elrohir shook his head slowly, recounting the encounter in his mind with vivid detail. Legolas seemed satisfied with this. He opened his mouth to speak again but was silence suddenly by the sound of footsteps on the wind, many footsteps.

"Aragorn, we are discovered. We cannot linger here any longer," he turned to Elrohir. " Can you stand?"

" With your aid," he replied. With that, Aragorn and Legolas helped Elrohir to his feet. The elf winced from the piercing pain that shot through his leg, but he did not protest.

Suddenly and arrow sang through the trees and struck the prison tree with a thud, embedding itself in the dark bark.

Aragorn shot a glance at Legolas who could only mutter a single word at their urgent need of haste.

"FLY!"

* * *

As the red sun rose, a thousand angry footfalls pounded on the crackling leaves of the forest floor. It was strange, when they had first arrived the haven had been flourishing and green with life. Lamias' beauty could almost rival that of Lothlorien's, though not quite. There had always been a darkness here, Aragorn knew it. And now, as they ran, the lush grass that had once cushioned their boots gave way to dry, dying leaves, speckling the once verdant floor with an array of browns, yellows, oranges and crimson red. 

"Keep running!" Aragorn shouted, chancing a quick glance over his shoulder. Twenty followed, at least. He mumbled an Elvin curse, drawing his blade from its sheath.

Legolas kept a peripheral eye on Elrohir, who leaned heavily on his shoulder as they ran. Legolas tried to urge Elrohir on, but his injury did not allow for speed, and he tried desperately to match Legolas' speed but was unsuccessful as the injured leg dragged painfully behind him. Legolas gripped him tightly around the waist and held firm the arm slung around his shoulders." We are almost to the river-" He could hear the water, could see the light reflecting, but then again he had the vision of an Elf, Aragorn was not so fortunate.

Elrohir fought for breath. He could not keep this pace up much longer, he knew that to be fact. His body seemed heavier now, heavier than it had ever been thus far. His thoughts wondered and he was grateful, for he did not wish to dwell on the pain in his leg or the aching of his lungs. All around him, the forest seemed to die, as if the negative energies of their pursuers were a pollutant, poisoning a beautiful dream and mangling it into a horrid nightmare. He prayed that Elladan was safe, but a dark fear in his heart warned him otherwise. Elladan had been sent to Isengard. If what Elimerel spoke was truth and Saruman is in league with Sauron, Elladan was in grave danger.

Aragorn glanced back again, it was no use, they were gaining quickly. Up ahead, the stream and the trees…the same trees that had blocked them on the way in, the ancient magic that had defended the perimeter. Aragorn stopped. " Keep going, Legolas!" He urged, slipping into the Elvin tongue. Aragorn quickly sheathed his sword, then simultaneously pulled two daggers from his belt and aimed.

Legolas did not look back. They were so close, even Aragorn could see the fast running water shining brightly blue against the amber forest. He could sense Aragorn had stopped, then heard the daggers fly past him. The two daggers struck the very heart of two trees on the edge of the stream's bank. Immediately, the vines screeched in anger and multiplied at an alarming rate, fusing with all the other like trees on the bank to create a wall of dense vine.

"LEGOLAS! GET ELROHIR THROUGH!" Aragorn commanded, readying to run again.

They reached the wall as it was still forming. "Brace yourself, my friend-" Legolas murmured as he roughly shoved the exhausted elf forward, successfully pushing him through to the other side. Legolas jumped through, close behind. It was then that he noticed how far back Aragorn was. The man was running swiftly, within yards of the gate. Elrohir sat beside Legolas who stood in alarm, relieving the pressure on his wounded leg.

Suddenly, a high pitched sound rang through the still air.

Aragorn stumbled, slightly, his pace slowed considerably as the arrow grazed his thigh, slicing through clothes and skin. "Legolas! We have to help Estel, he'll be caught!" Elrohir stammered, watching in disbelief as the vines continued to close before them. Legolas stepped forward, between the forest and the bank, determined to hold the vine up until Aragorn could make it through. Elrohir watched in terrible anticipation, wishing he could be of some help.

Aragorn limped now, sweat beading on his brow. Suddenly, another arrow- this time making its mark. The arrow struck him from the back, in his right side. Aragorn gasped in surprise, falling to his knees.

" ESTEL!" Elrohir cried, the scream ripping from his throat.

" STRIDER!" Legolas cried in unison, struggling to hold up the increasingly weighty vines.

Aragorn shook his head. He did not make a sound, but his eyes spoke volumes. _Legolas, go- save Elrohir…_

Legolas' heart pounded in his chest. His eyes hardened, forcing himself to do what Aragorn was asking of him. " I swear I will return for you, my friend," He whispered, stepping back towards the bank and allowing the vines to fall and fuse.

"NO!" Elrohir protested, lashing out. It was too late, the wall was sealed.

Elrohir and Legolas sat in a shocked silence, on the banks of an unnamed river, what would have seemed like a peaceful autumn day. The wall was thick, impenetrable. They could hear or see nothing beyond it. Legolas struggled with the bitterness in his heart. He turned to Elrohir, who was breathing very heavily, the color absent from his face.

Elrohir was silent, fuming. First Elladan and now Estel, his brothers fallen to darkness and here he sat, unable to even rise on his own. The anger and frustration burned his chest, aggravating the already intense burning for air. He glanced at Legolas and was sobered somewhat by the elf's sullen expression. Elrohir quieted the rage in his heart. His composure softened.

"Legolas, they will send him to Isengard. This I know. Elimerel has no care for men, despises them. He would rather kill them all than make alliances. Saruman, however, is no fool. Isildur's heir is a valuable asset to be had if this war is to be won and he will have Estel if not on his side, then in his dungeon. Already Elladan-" he stopped, choked with emotion.

"We will not allow that to happen," Legolas interrupted him, did not allow him to finish. He stopped speaking abruptly, signaling for silence. A rustle of leave, footsteps…

Elrohir stirred slightly beside him, a shiver traveling down his spine. "Uruk-hai patrols, Elimerel threatened as much…" he whispered in disgust.

" Come now, we must get to a safe place, under the cover of the forest. Aragorn and I left the horses some ways downstream, in a safe clearing. We will make our way there. We will be of no use to our friends if we are discovered by orcs."

Elrohir reluctantly agreed and with that, they were off.

* * *

Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief as Legolas and Elrohir disappeared beyond the impassable wall of vines. His respite was short lived as the pain in his side brought him to the moment and the yells and stomping of the enemy surrounded him. In one swift motion, determined fingers wrapped viciously around the shaft. A small cry escaped him as he pulled the deeply lodged arrow from his side. The blood began to flow freely, but there was nothing he could do about that now. Taking in a sharp breath he pushed up from his knee and lashed out at his attackers, his blade singing as it left its Elven sheath. He cursed inwardly as the pain in his side and leg limited his movements, slowed him down. They came at him quickly, arrows from every direction, steel catching the fading light as dying stars. He fought indiscriminately, ducking and kicking, striking for what felt like hours but in reality may have been minutes. 

_Think, Aragorn, think-_

As he fought, he struggled to reason an escape, to recall the layout of the city in his mind. There had been a tree, on the southern border, not far from where Legolas and Elrohir had escaped. He remembered the hidden footholds, carved in wood. The evil elves had used it the night before, to what purpose Aragorn could not tell for they ascended in the dead of night when none were awake to watch- they did not account for the ever watchful and attentive eye of the Ranger. He did not know where it would lead him, but the tree had been tall, and on the border. If he could climb it, he would have a chance at escape, at falling to safety. The choice was made.

Aragorn switched to defense, slowly making his way to the tree. But it seemed that in the short time of his mental deliberation, a small army had amassed to subdue the seemingly insubduable. The wound to his thigh made it difficult to run, and the loss of blood from the more serious injury did not aid him in his effort. He struggled to focus. A block here, another avoidance.

The Elves were skilled, more skilled than the orcs had ever been. Never in his wildest imaginings, his darkest nightmares, had Aragorn imagined himself in mortal combat with a people that he took to be his own kin. It was a nightmare indeed, gasped, suffocated by the dense atmosphere of hatred and darkness. He had learned to fight beside Elrond's sons, his brothers, but it had never been like this. Their worst argument could not amount to the rage that ruled the followers of Elimerel. Their blades cut him and their negativity stifled him. He was suddenly one man in a dragon's den.

He slammed suddenly into something hard, his back colliding with the rough bark of a tree.

It was _the _tree.

The fighting stopped, he was surrounded on all sides, save the hard tree trunk behind him. Aragorn stood ready, his sword clutched tightly in his deadly grip, awaiting the next trial.

The masses parted to reveal the King himself, striding arrogantly towards the center of the ring, towards Aragorn. He stopped. " Bind him."

Suddenly, the crowd came alive as they pounced forward, at least one hundred warriors. Aragorn quickly sheathed his sword and turned to the tree, whispering an Elvin prayer as he reached up to the bark in the same fashion he had observed.

He fingers grazed the camouflaged hold, and he tightened his grip, pulling the full weight of his body up with his arms. He was off the ground and climbing, the second step-

A whistling sound, all too familiar-

Pain exploded in his shoulder as the arrow penetrated his body, rendering his left arm useless. He gritted his teeth in pain as he forced his injured arm to cooperate, reaching still for the next hold.

Their hands were suddenly on him, on his legs, pulling him downward. Aragorn growled in frustration and pain as the tension tore at his wounds. Black splotched clouded his vision as he fought to break free of their hold with strength he no longer had. Finally, they pulled him off of the tree, and the ranger fell hard to the unforgiving ground, landing in a crumpled heap as the bleeding worsened with the now intolerable pain that radiated across his chest and down his entire arm, setting it on fire. Rough, strong hands pulled him to his knees and bound his wrists tightly before him. Aragorn struggled defiantly, but to no avail. There were too many to fight. His eyes remained fixed on the figure before him, an elf as black as Sauron's heart, leading his people astray, poisoning them with thoughts of hatred and conquest. Elimerel had ruined these elves as Saruman had ruined them when he created the orcs. Aragorn could see little difference and his anger only increased.

" Lord Aragorn, it seems you will remain my guest for a short while longer," Elimerel smirked, his voice deep and deliberate. " Take him away, but take care and bind the wounds, he is not to be further injured- yet."

It took five elves to drag him and another two to accompany them in the chance of his escape. Under normal circumstances, Aragorn would have thought these odds favorable, but in his weakened state, he could do little more than bear the agonizing pain that tore through him with every stride. The world was a blur of faces and words as the images streaked by until finally, they arrived at their destination.

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**Translations**

**Esta sinome** – rest here

**Mellonamin** – my friend

**Uuma dela** – Don't worry


	7. Six

**Author's Note:**

Hello again! I am sorry for the long delay in posting- I have been bombarded with exams and assignments. It was bound to happen- the perils of grad school I guess. So a kind of a warning on this next chapter- it is **very angsty and a bit violent**, so please just be aware.

Thank you SO much to viggomaniac for being such a helpful beta reader (I think that is the correct term ;) ). Itwas much appreciated!

Please let me know what you think. The story is just getting started!

-Athena

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* * *

Six **

"It seems he is coming around..."

"Quickly, call for the healer and-..."

So distant, so far were the voices that seemed to drift in and out of his awareness. Every now and then they would grow louder, then softer, and sometimes there would be singing. That was his favorite, a sweet, light melody which reminded him of something that he could not quite place, could not quite imagine. Another time, another place...and he longed to be there again, but it was so difficult. If only it were simply a matter of desire. So strange that even the simplest tasks, the most minute operation of the body, can so quickly become painstaking ordeals of sheer will. But in all fairness, the desire to drift farther into darkness, embracing the peace it would promise, was strong indeed. Had it not been for the persistent voices, roughly nagging his mind to sharpen, he would have been content to stay in the oblivion that had come to be the only home he could remember.

"Please gwador, please come back to the light, come back to me-"

"I am sorry my Lady, it seems he is not yet strong enough-"

Was that true? Was it a matter of strength? It was different now than it had been before. He was less detached and growing more and more united by the moment, soul and body colliding into one. So, it was to be strength that would save him. So be it. He would not have it said a son of Elrond was lacking in strength. With renewed effort he reached for the voices, the music, growing louder which each ray of light that warmed his pale features-

"My Lady! My Lady! Come quickly- "

* * *

The woods of Lamias were momentarily silent, the air stagnant and humid. 

"Again!"- CRACK

Coarse rope chafed his bloodied wrists. But the pain in his wrists was meaningless. Though his body hung firmly fixed to the tree, and his eyes remained fixed blankly on the dark shadows of the forest before him, he was very far away.

"Again!"- CRACK

From afar he heard a grunt of pain and dimly recognized it as his own.

"Again!" – CRRAACK

He was beyond the point of acknowledging the blood that dripped down his back, or the pain that possessed every nerve ending. They were too distant, too corporeal. Instead, he allowed himself to drift…

_"Come along, Estel! We are going to be late and it will be on your head!" Elladan scowled, stomping through the woods surrounding the fair city of Imladris. _

"_Nice try, brother, but Estel is hardly as gullible as Legolas!" Elrohir smirked, following close behind. _

_Legolas growled, arching an eyebrow. "One of these days, Elladan, you will swear that the sky itself is falling and I will be the last to come to your aid!"_

_Elladan could not stifle the laugh that escaped his lips, the mirth playing brightly in his eyes. "Come now, my dear Prince, how could you have truly believed that the wood was on fire if you smelled no smoke and saw no flame!"_

_Elrohir laughed loudly. "He has a point, Legolas. It was fairly obvious!"_

_Legolas narrowed his eyes. "It was a coward's tactic. You are just tired of losing at this game all the time, so you have resorted to trickery. Tired of being the seeker, are we Elladan?"_

_Elladan smiled wryly before uttering a witty retort. "I rather enjoy seeking, Legolas. There is no fun in hiding," he added, in a nonchalant manner that only annoyed Legolas more. _

_Through the bantering, Elrohir only laughed harder. "Now__children, enough is enough. It is only a game, and a good one at that. Let us not spoil it with childish rivalry. The sun is setting and dinner shall be served soon. Let's find Estel and get back."_

_Both Elladan and Legolas exchanged stony glances, then nodded in unison. "Agreed."_

"_And by the way, eldest son of Lord Elrond, Elrohir is at least partially right. There is no way you will lure Estel into the open, he will think your calls to dinner are merely tricks to lure him from his hiding place. It will require a much more- sophisticated- plan..." Legolas whispered, a mischievous smile playing across his youthful features. He would find Estel, he was always the one to find the young edan..._

"_What did you have in mind?" Elrohir ventured. _

"..find me now, Legolas..." his mind pleaded, the words not fully vocalized. "...please..."

* * *

They walked for an hour, down the bank to the place where Aragorn and Legolas had decided to continue on foot. The horses were there, tied securely in among the shrubs as were the supplies, hidden expertly amidst the leaves and greenery. They had hidden the horses the previous night, before their search for Elrohir. To Legolas' relief, the site was yet undiscovered and it appeared that the patrols did not extend this far, although he was certain that in the coming hours that would change as Elimerel's need increased. The reunion was bittersweet. The horses neighed softly in happiness as the two approached, Elrohir leaning again heavily on Legolas for support. Even the slightest movement cause lancing pain to flare through his leg, but the elf in his stubbornness would not let on, insisting that they not stop to rest until they reached the site. The forest felt cleaner at this distance, untainted by the looming darkness behind them. For the first time Legolas felt as though he breathed clean air. It was dusk now, and as the light began to fade they took some rest. 

The silence was short lived. " Legolas, we must go after him. If he had managed to escape, he would have been here by now. I will not surrender him to that demon's insanity. I have seen - I cannot allow it to happen to Estel."

"Peace, hear me. Elrohir, you cannot go where I must go," his tone softened, "Your leg is badly wounded, despite what you are willing to admit. If we are to rescue Aragorn, we must be quick and able."

Elrohir listened to the logic in his words. In his condition storming the gates was impossibility. "I understand your point, my friend. But I will not wait here. It is only a matter of time before the patrols are extended. Besides, I can ride and I can fight. We will need a swift means of escape."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "Yes, you are right. That shall be your task, Elrohir." He was silent for a moment. "Our best advantage is surprise. They will not expect us to come after Aragorn so soon, or to have the horses we have. There is a gate on the Northern border of this strange wood. Do you know it?"

Elrohir nodded solemnly. "Yes, it is the place where I entered." It seemed so long ago now, like an eternity.

"Aragorn spoke to me of a secret entrance, one that he discovered in the night. Wait for me there, with the horses. I will go in and get Estel." Legolas concluded.

"I will be ready."

* * *

Dusk had come upon them swiftly. It was not overly difficult to get back into the traitorous wood. He had waited for the sun to descend, had watched as throngs of patrols were released to the surrounding wood. They would not suspect such a daring attempt, especially with Elrohir's grievous injury. What Elimerel did not anticipate was the tight bond shared between the sons of Elrond and the Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas knew full well that Elrohir would not fail- though this confidence did not prevent the small utterance which escaped his lips as he left the Elf alone with the horses... _Iluvatar, guide him... _

Suddenly, Legolas felt his world spin, and a splitting pain raged through his head. He knelt close to the ground, willing the feeling to depart. The poison was only getting worse. He knew this, could feel it in his system. But it could not be helped now, he only prayed he had the strength to find his friend and leave this place of evil. Legolas opened his eyes, which he had not remembered closing, with a start. It took him a moment to realized that the labored breaths he had heard nearby were really his own. A moment later the world stilled enough for him to rise and find his footing. They would need an act of divine mercy to get out of this one...

Without further hesitation, he returned to the place where they had found Elrohir and hid behind one of the tall trees, obscured from view by the shadows cast from the numerous torches hanging from the many branches. Legolas listened, barely breathing.

"Do you really think you can resist me for much longer, you pathetic mortal. Mankind does not deserve to inherit middle earth; you will destroy it as you destroy yourselves."

Legolas knew the voice; it was the King Elimerel himself.

"…you will not succeed…"

Legolas' heart stopped-

"Finally, you speak. I see I have not broken you yet, but I will. You see, my dear ranger, not all of us share the idealistic views of your _beloved_ lord Elrond. Elrond is a fool and he may pass to the mists if he wishes, but my people will not do the same. We are a superior race, we will reign once again. As it was in the beginning it will be in the end," the anger in the King's voice was apparent, despite his attempts to stifle it. In truth, Aragorn infuriated him, and hatred for the obstinate man welled within him, spewing forth in the form of words.

A space of silence ensued. Legolas ventured a bit further, inching his way around, with the tree bark at his back. He leaned his head back and craned his neck in time to see Aragorn barely lift his head from his shoulder. He was tied, face forward, to a strong and thick oak tree that looked to be as ancient as the forest. Elimerel stood before the unfortunate ranger, his back turned to Legolas.

From his view behind the tree, Aragorn seemed to be in decent shape. The arrows had been removed and Legolas quickly noted the clean bandages wrapping the numerous wounds. But his shirt hung in shreds down around his shoulders and back. The elf could not surmise exactly what had been done to his friend during the interrogation. He hoped for the best. _They want him alive- but why and for what purpose? _To Legolas' amazement, Aragorn seemed cognizant enough to insult his captor. _The stupidity of men-_ he mused, his mood quickly turning from concerned to anger as he heard the ranger's rough voice, weakened by the suffering he had been enduring. "…it is…you…who are the fool…Sauron does not make alliances …"

"It is not Sauron I am allied with. It is Saruman who is my ally and while he believes he has tricked me, it is I who will betray him." Legolas shivered. _Saruman must not have Aragorn. Elimerel does not realize Aragorn's value, this is an advantage_… "As we speak, a band of orcs and Uruk-hai wait on my borders to deliver a great prize to the white wizard. It is you that Saruman wants. He wants you broken but breathing and I am more than happy to comply." With that, the king took a step closer to the bound ranger. "He would have the ring for himself. But if you give me what I want, I will spare you from the horrors of Isengard. "

King Elimerel, in fact, was no fool. There was some truth to his words. He was supposedly allied with Saruman and did not trust Sauron. This ranger was to be delivered to Isengard and though Saruman did not make this known, Elimerel knew it was because Saruman believed that this ranger possessed knowledge of the location of a very valuable weapon, Sauron's One Ring to rule them all. But what Sauruman did not anticipate was Elimerel's resourcefulness. Despite the white wizard's scheming, Elimerel learned of the Ring, and his desire for it was great.

But more than that, he had allied himself with a power far greater than the white wizard, an ancient power that he believed could rival Sauron's, a power that demanded this ranger for a purpose far greater than mere interrogation. It was the same power that informed him of the ranger's identity, not that he much cared for these matters of men. It was this being that gave him the power to raise his army, and to once again build his city. The same power that told him of this pitiful would-be king of men, that paid for the delivery of this ranger with a prize more valuable to the hateful king than any amount of riches- the promise of the utter and painful destruction of mankind and the restoration of the supreme rule of elves to this middle earth. This oath was almost incentive enough -- almost. There was one thing that King Elimerel would have for himself, the one thing that Saruman wanted, the information this ranger could give him before being delivered to his death.

The snarling elf reach forward and roughly grabbed the ranger by his torn garments, slamming his chest into the rough, gnarled tree trunk to which he was bound. Aragorn grimaced, but remained silent.

"I want the Ring."

Aragorn met his gaze unflinching, all pain forgotten in this moment of defiance.

"You…you shall not have it…" came the bold response, heavy with conviction.

"I am no fool, Aragorn son of Arathorn."

Legolas gasped, then slid back behind the tree, fearful that the sound had been detectable. How could Elimerel know of Aragorn's existence let alone identity? Did Saruman know? Sauron?

Elimerel paused to enjoy the look of surprise and despair on his prisoner's face. "Yes, I know of your pathetic lineage and I care not. I know that Elrond has taken it, hidden it. You will tell me who bears it, or I will resume with the "_persuasion". _You are strong, young _king_, but none of your race can endure forever. You will be broken, now or later, it matters not to me. Time is only measured in your suffering, and in the suffering of your friends."

Elimerel did not miss the flash of fear evident in Aragorn's silver eyes.

_Do not believe him, Estel. I am right here-_

"You speak nothing but lies…Go and persuade the sea wave not to break. You will persuade me no more easily…"

Legolas winced as he heard Elimerel's hand connect with Aragorn's cheek.

"While I am many things, I am no liar heir of Isildur, make no mistake. The Prince of Mirkwood, along with Elrohir of Rivendell, have been overtaken. Elrond's son is far too valuable a bargaining chip to be lost so recklessly. While your Elven brother is alive, for the moment at least, I cannot say the same for the young prince. Legolas is dead-"

Silence.

"…no…" came the murmured response, substantially weaker. "…lies.."

With that, Legolas heard something fall to the floor. "Here," the king snarled. "How would I have this then-" Aragorn remained silent.

_Valar! It must be my bow! Aragorn, you must not believe what he says, you mustn't give in…-_

"You leave me little choice, Rathim! Summon Captain Dalinor and a platoon to me at once!"

Legolas started as he heard footsteps approaching not long after the command was given. Many elves were headed this way. Without another thought, he swiftly climbed into the tree that had been serving as his cover. From his new position, he gained a better perspective of the overall area. He was on the perimeter of a ring of trees, outlining a small space in the center of the ring where one large tree stood. The shadows danced from the flickering flames. Legolas could see the torches, one bound to each ring in the tree, illuminating the circle with a dark, shadowy light. Aragorn had been secured to the trunk of the central tree, his hands tied cruelly above him. Legolas cursed, his view of his friend obscured by the copious amounts of lush, green leaves. He would have to listen, and wait.

Aragorn did not have the strength to lift his head. He could hear the leaves crackling. Even in his exhausted state his keen ranger senses, though dulled, could not be stifled, but he had not the strength to respond to it, to process it. His world was laced with torment and darkness as the pain tore through his back, his arms, his chest.. He could feel the blood flowing from the wounds, unstaunched. Having endured hours of torture at the hands of the wicked king, he found it more than difficult to battle the weariness he now felt. They had not held back, had given him their entire effort, yet he would not give them the satisfaction of pleading or crying out. It took all of his will to stifle the inner cries of sheer agony that threatened to tear from his throat. But he had managed it and now the temporary victory of honor was made bittersweet by the nearly intolerable pain that consumed him and the despair that threatened to suffocate him. He could not guess the hours he had hung there, the hours spent in attempts to break him.

Dalinor arrived with a small patrol, eager to do his lord's bidding. His gaze lingered for a moment on the dazed ranger.

"Cut him from the tree and bind him to the stone at once." The King commanded.

"Yes, my King," Dalinor replied, advancing towards the prisoner. "You two, take the other side." As Dalinor approached, his eyes widened in horror as he drew nearer and the full extent of Aragorn's ordeal was revealed. The bound wrists were a pitiful sight, supporting the weight of his body as his boots barely grazed the base of the tree. Aragorn was still, his head resting against the rough bark, his face hidden in shadow. His breaths came in shallow, even gasps. Dalinor approached, cautiously.

He reached forward, placing one hand on the ranger's shoulder to grab him when the ropes were cut. This contact elicited an agonized groan from Aragorn as the ranger closed his eyes tightly against the searing sensation, too exhausted to recoil. Dalinor pulled his hand away quickly in surprise. The color drained from his face as he stared down at his own hand, stained crimson with Aragorn's blood. He instinctively moved forward, stepping around to stand behind the injured man. Aragorn's back was a maze of deep red slashes and crimson lines of blood, networking to almost every region. His tunic was shredded, stained. The flesh was raw and wounded, more so than Dalinor had ever seen as a result of a typical interrogation.

The elf stepped back in disgust. Elves were not meant to be a violent people. It was not in their nature. The brutality- he was not accustomed to it. What kind of power could the ring possibly possess to merit such silence on the part of the ranger? Was it important enough to merit such horrid cruelty on the part of his king? Was it worth this seemingly senseless and dishonorable display of carnage? Surely he had not seemed a threat- in fact he was a messenger of Imladris- an ally. All these thoughts spun through the younger elf's mind as he hesitated, dagger in hand.

His subordinates waited for the command to cut the ropes. Dalinor did not see them.

"Is there a problem Captain?"

Dalinor's gaze snapped back towards his King. He had known Elimerel, trusted him and trusted in his judgment. He had known the ranger not a week! It was true that at times the king's methods could be perceived as extreme- but Dalinor trusted that there was some reason. He had to. "Apologies, my lord." Without further delay he nodded to the other elves to proceed and he, himself, stepped forward to cut the ropes.

The elves caught the ranger roughly by the shoulders, none wanting to place hands on his mangled back. It was a merciful gesture.

Aragorn, for his part, felt nauseous. He could not suppress a load groan as the full weight of his body came down upon his knees, and the blood in his arms rushed with full force into his severely deprived hands. The color drained further from his face, if that were possible. His limbs and body trembled uncontrollably. Yet despite his physical discomfort, his mind grew sharp with clarity born of necessity as he sensed the lingering doubt in Captain Dalinor's hesitant movement. "We are sworn allies, Captain. How is it that you betray the lord of Imladris by interrogating his messenger unprovoked?" he ground out, careful to keep his tone just loud enough for Dalinor's hearing.

Dalinor glared at him, trying very hard to see the monster of a mortal his king obviously perceived. He wanted to feel the threat, to know that this was an enemy, but the feeling did not come. Aragorn held his glare and returned it with full force, his spirit yet unbroken and his will to survive stronger than his fear of more suffering. But Dalinor did not answer. Instead, Aragorn felt strong hands pull him back from the tree, felt his ribs protest after their own abuse again the painful bark. His world tilted dangerously and he thought for a moment that darkness would finally take him.

"There, to the stone." Elimerel pointed to a large boulder towards the center of the ring of trees, a few yards from the tree where Aragorn had been hung. He watched, unmoved, as the ranger was dragged and bound, apparently too exhausted to protest. His two orders had been clear. The first was accomplished: broken yet breathing. There was one task remaining, one final request made by the greater power he had pledged to serve. And now that the time had come for its fulfillment, Elimerel was not sure even he could stomach it. It was true that he had resigned himself to evil, but he was still an elf. _If I am to regain my kingdom, if I am to save Middle Earth, it must be done as he wills. _What mattered now was that this ranger be prepared for delivery, which suited Elimerel just fine. As far as he was concerned, if Aragorn could withstand what was to come and not give the Ring's location, he never would and thus would be of no further use to him.

Legolas could hear every word. He fought very hard to remain in the tree wanting more than anything to be able to see what was happening. The feeling in his heart told him that it was not good.

Finally, Aragorn was bound to the boulder, his chest pressed firmly to its face, his arms pulled and secured around its great circumference. He slumped forward, his breaths labored and shallow.

"Dalinor," The elven captain rushed to his king's side, leaving his patrol to finish the task. "Yes majesty," he bowed in supplication

King Elimerel reached within his flowing robes and pulled forth two objects. The first, an ancient silver dagger with elvish writings on the hilt and blade. The second, a small sheet of manuscript paper. He held them out to Dalinor, who took the articles in his hands, openly bewildered.

Elimerel's face was as cold as ice. "You will take this dagger and carve between the shoulders, across his back."

Dalinor's eyes narrowed in confusion and disbelief. "Excuse me?" He exclaimed, before the words could be filtered. He slowly, with trembling hands, opened the folded sheet of paper. His eyes widened in horror. "But…but my lord, surely-"

"THAT IS YOUR ORDER, DALINOR SON OF DAMINOOR. Must I remind you that you have sworn your allegiance to me as your father had before you and his father had to my own? Have you so little faith in your king that you would question his commands so openly and boldly? Must I remind you that the punishment for treason is DEATH!" The explosion of words and emotion struck Dalinor with full force. He was not evil, but he was weak and very loyal to the memory and honor of his ancestors. If this was his path, then so be it. He would do as the King commanded, though he did not suspect that he would ever be allowed to enter the Grey Havens once this offense was committed. Maybe he could eventually find peace in the Halls of Mandos? Or maybe Elimerel was right after all, maybe this was their chance to reclaim middle earth…

He swallowed thickly and straightened. Turning his back to the king and walking towards the semi-conscious ranger. Aragorn's half lidded eyes did his best to follow the elf's movements until the elf disappeared behind him. There was silence for a moment, and nothing stirred. His breaths quickened in anticipation, his heart rate increased from anxiety and blood loss. And then he felt it-

The dagger sliced deeply into his skin, just beneath the base of his neck. It seemed the only space spared by the whipping and beating he had received. The dagger slid easily into the skin as Dalinor, with trembling hands, drew the flowing characters with expert skill.

Aragorn gasped and shut his eyes tightly, steeling himself against the pain. He gasped again, his hands grasping desperately to the ropes as he struggled to evade the intruding blade. "…please…"

Dalinor did not stop. His hand kept moving, the blood flowing freely now. His other hand flew to the ranger's shoulder and clamped down tightly to prevent the ranger from moving.

"…Valar…" Aragorn moaned as the blade continued. The pain was excruciating, not just the wound but there was something unnatural about its nature, about the dagger and the carving itself. It burned like molten rock being poured onto his skin. "..stop…" he gasped, unable to bear it. But the pain did not relent, it continued as the pattern became more intricate. It hurt far more than it should have, there was something definitely wrong. And finally, for the first time Aragorn screamed as the agony overcame him. He cried out, hot tears involuntarily spilling from his eyes as his forehead pressed forcefully against the rocky face of the boulder.

Legolas felt tears stream down his face at the sound of his friend's utter torment. What was happening? He couldn't see! He wanted to jump from the tree and stop them-but it would do them no good. He could feel the poison in his system and knew that he could not win against such odds in a weakened state. He knew this-he had to wait.

The scream sent shivers through Dalinor and he paused for only a moment. This went against every grain in his body, in his being. To cause such suffering- he worked faster now, almost unable to stop and knowing that soon it would be complete.

The screams became hoarse and soon they were reduced to occasional gasping noises as Aragorn's body slackened against the rock, trembling. After what seemed like hours but in fact amounted to minutes, Dalinor removed the dagger, his hands stained crimson with Aragorn's blood. He stepped back, dropping the dagger to the floor as his artistry was revealed in all its gruesome glory. _What have I done?_

Legolas did not breathe, could not as he waited in those tense moments of silence, interrupted only by the sounds of irregular gasping. No one dared speak. _Please, by the Valar, leave him alone- just leave him…_

Finally, Elimerel's voice rang out in the stillness. "Listen to me, ranger, listen to my words carefully. I will leave you for a time to ponder your circumstance. I must deliver you by the morrow, and I will not jeopardize my alliance because of your stubbornness. If you will not answer to me, you will answer to Saruman," _and powers far more terrible than that pathetic Istar…_

Many footsteps, angry footsteps.

Silence.

Legolas carefully rose and leapt silently to the forest floor, peering around the tree that had shielded him from discovery.

Still silence.

"Estel, what have they done-" Legolas whispered, his legs weak beneath him as he cautiously approached. He knew the capability of his people, shuddered to imagine the dark machinations of such power corrupted. The ability to heal, and the ability to destroy.

The man was bound to the large boulder, his chest pressed tightly to the rock as though he were to hug it. His body sagged, unmoving, as his knees barely touched the ground, resting more on the base of the boulder than on the dirt. The face was turned away. From the distance, Legolas could see the tattered and torn tunic, stained crimson with blood. Legolas shivered involuntarily.

Thankful for the green and brown garment he wore, he made his way through the brush and closer to the boulder. Now he could see the bright red slashes marring the man's back. They had bound him hastily. The jagged rock cut deeply into his arms which were pulled taut over the stone and tied by a thick, coarse rope, to each other at the back of the large boulder. His face remained hidden in shadow, but closer now the elf could see the deep slashes in his back. The fair haired elf's gut lurched at the sight. Between the shoulder blades there was an abnormal wound, the carving-

Legolas stopped. Shock and horror claiming his emotions. There- carved into Aragorn's back- was a word, in the black tongue, the language of Mordor. Legolas did not know what it meant and could barely stand to look at it. This could not be good.

Finally, taking the chance, he managed to kneel beside the ranger. Legolas reached out to touch the man's face, gently lifting it to the light. "Estel-"

The right side of his face was pressed against the cool stone. His lower lip was cut and bleeding, a dark bruise adorned the left cheek. Legolas' heart quickened with amazement and despair as he realized that the ranger was conscious…_Either conscious or …_the half lidded eye stared into empty nothingness, seeming not to even notice the elf now as he knelt within view. The gentle silver eyes were dilated and distant, glazed with fever and pain. Legolas felt pity stir within him, and anger. This man was so drastically different than the self assured man he knew to be his best friend. Aragorn trembled slightly, his breathing was ragged and shallow.

Unsure of what to do, Legolas knelt closer still and whispered to him. " Estel- it is I Legolas."

The ranger blinked, his gaze fixed to nothingness, which continued to captivate his attention. _How is he still conscious?_ "Estel," Legolas instinctively extended his hand in a comforting manner, laying it to rest on his friend's shoulder, noting the unnatural heat that radiated from his body. He was desperate to rouse the man from his stupor.

This elicited a small reaction as the ranger reflexively recoiled. The trembling worsened. He blinked again, this time moaning very softly. Legolas watched intently as some of the hazy confusion cleared, giving way to recognition. He swallowed, parched lips parting ever so slightly.

Legolas took in a breath of surprise as a small smile played on Aragorn's grave features. He spoke slowly, the glaze in his eyes saying more than the mumbled words forced from parched lips. "...a shadow…to haunt me…I have failed you…." He whispered, brokenly, delirium seizing him.

" Please Estel, it is I, Legolas, I am here now," His voice was slightly louder, as if to add validity to his claim. He gently tucked a few strands of matted dark hair behind the ranger's ear.

"Aragorn, listen to me. I am alive, Elimerel speaks lies, Elrohir and I are safe. It is time to get you out of here-" Legolas assured, lifting the man's face to the light once again. Estel let out a small breath and opened his eyes slowly, recognition partially replacing confusion. He stared back at Legolas, his eyes half glazed, but the fresh pain had sobered him and he was brought out of the delirium temporarily.

"…Legolas…?"

The hoarse whisper was barely audible, even to the elf. The elf nodded in reassurance, smiling despite himself. "Aye, it is me. I have come to free you," he whispered, speaking in the high tongue.

Aragorn moved his head fractionally. He seemed to be trying to speak, but he could not find a voice to express the words. Legolas somehow understood, reading the uncanny intensity in his silver eyes which seemed almost to change color before him as the ranger's focus increased.

"Your gwador is safe, on his way to the Northern Gate as we speak. Now we must leave this place," The prince replied, resolutely.

The man shook his head fractionally. With a great effort he spoke once again, his voice a harsh whisper, the words broken betraying the fractionalized turmoil his mind grappled with. "..Legolas…I cannot…they will find you…"

"Peace Estel," the Prince soothed. "they have forgotten you for the moment. We can use this time to our advantage. Elrohir is waiting!"

Aragorn's eyes fluttered, as his strength wavered. He made no further protest, which worried the elf given his observations of Aragorn's extreme stubbornness. Without further discussion, Legolas gently wrapped one arm around the ranger's shoulders while easily slicing through the binding rope with his dagger.

The release of the rope resulted in the sudden loss of his support, and Aragorn could not stifle the pain-filled groan, which escaped him.

Aragorn fell back heavily against the elf's chest. The tremors which wracked his body only increased as the man crumpled to the ground, prevented from collapsing solely by Legolas' strong arms. Aragorn could not suppress a sharp intake in breath as his raw back touched the elf's coarse tunic.

Legolas was confounded for the space of a moment. The ranger's chest was a myriad of colors, darkly bruised. There were numerous slashes, fresh wounds painfully drawn across exposed skin. He felt overwhelming sorrow overcome him, as well as a pang of guilt. The ranger had sacrificed himself for them.

Legolas gently pulled the limp body closer, removing his cloak and wrapping it around the trembling shoulders. The crimson blood seeped through quickly, but that could not be helped now. They had to escape first and foremost.

Aragorn, for his part, was lost in a whirlwind of pain and delirium.

"Estel-" Legolas was whispering.

Aragorn forced himself to focus on Legolas, blinking slowly as if to maintain the fragility of his consciousness. _He felt as though he were on the very edge of a dark abyss, teetering between a painful consciousness and an oblivious peace. One step more… _

" Please, stay with me …" Legolas pleaded. He frowned, the man was a mess. Thankfully, the arrow wounds had been cleaned and bound. They did not seem to have been mortal wounds and the arrows themselves were markedly thinner than a standard elven arrow. What worried Legolas most was the shock, from the blood loss, and the strange carving across Aragorn's back. Without further words, the elf gently lifted the ranger into his arms with ease, cradling him protectively. The human's eyes fluttered for a moment and it appeared as though he held his breath- overwhelmed with pain that the movement inspired. Holding him firmly to his chest, Legolas rose to his feet and soundlessly slipped into the protective foliage of the surrounding brush and trees.

Aragorn's increasing unresponsiveness worried the elf. They had been through much together, many adventures, many injuries. He had never seen the ranger, his friend, in such a terrible state, had never imagined it possible. From his youth Aragorn had a natural skill with the sword, he was strong and confident, keen, the highest caliber of the Dunedain. His abilities rivaled the most dangerous elven warriors and in some skills far surpassed. He was a man that was born to be a King. And now, he lay bleeding and broken.

Legolas began to work quickly. He draped his elven cloak around the ranger and eased him gently back against a tree, wincing as his back made contact with the rough bark, praying that cloak offered sufficient cushioning. Having done this, he moved to examine the arrow wounds to ensure that they were well dressed.

_The appeal of the abyss could not be denied…he was there again, climbing the tree, climbing towards an open night sky splattered with thousands of beautiful stars…She was reaching down towards him, his beloved, whispering for him to come to her, to climb. He wanted to reach her, to lose himself in her arms, to forget about all of the troubles of the dark times which have fallen…_

Aragorn moaned softly, "… I am coming…"

"Estel?" Legolas called in surprise and premature relief. He received no verbal response. The ranger stirred slightly. Legolas worked quickly, leaning the ranger forward to deal with the gruesome wounds on his back.

_Calling his name, screaming his name…they laid their hands on him, on his legs, pulling him from the tree, angry faces of evil purpose and familiar ...Elrond, Gandalf…eyes full of sorrow and apology and also determination…he lost his grip, slid a ways closer, a glance downward at the abyss still dangerously tempting, dangerously close… _

"…please…" He thrashed weakly against Legolas' hold, as Legolas poured water from his skin over the wounds.

_If he fell, he would not reach the ground, it was too narrow, he would fall into oblivion… _

"…stop… "

_Still pulling, still grabbing…he reached up for her, straining to see beyond her radiant, blinding beauty, she was so beautiful…he could almost reach her now, the fingers, the palm, intertwined and he was pulled upward, above. He ascended, to the space beyond, standing beside her, the moon beams illuminating her hair, the soft touch of her cheek against his own and her melodic whisper…" I will wait for you, my King. I will wait an eternity…Detholalle-"_

_He gazed into the intensity of her eyes, the dark mystery, the deep and enduring love, passion and he understood what he had always known. He began to climb down, to the earth, the hands were gone, the voices the faces, he was alone in his task and he would see it through…staring boldly down into a darkness more terrible than he had ever known... _

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked drowsily, at first completely numb, then suddenly overwhelmingly sensitive to the many injuries he had sustained. Though he tried, he could not find the strength to move or even speak.

"Hodo, Dina mellonin..." Legolas soothed, slipping into his native tongue.

The melodic voice seemed to trigger calm in Aragorn as he settled, too exhausted to really continue in his protests. He gazed upwards, grey eyes glazed and distant. He was confused, his mind clouded and drowsy, a feeling he was not accustomed to. _It must be fever... _the thought was fleeting. And then it was gone.

* * *


	8. Seven

**Author's Note:**

Wowzer…two weeks since my last update. My apologies. I hope that this chapter makes up for it. THANK YOU SO MUCH to **lindahoyland, Neniel Sildurien** and **mbali** (my new reviewers) and to everyone else who reviewed before. I cannot express how helpful and encouraging the feedback has been. Yay, 20 reviews! Woo hoo!

Thank you also to all of you who are reading and do not review. I am just happy to know that people out there are finding the story enjoyable enough to keep up with.

Finally, thank you to my wonderful beta reader **Viggomaniac** whose keen eye adds the polishing touch to chapter seven which I now present to you for your enjoyment.

If you have a moment, I would love to know what you think thus far as the plot thickens…;)

-Athena

* * *

**Seven**

Elrohir watched with unwavering eyes as Legolas swiftly flew through the green shrubs and foliage, soon to vanish beneath the cover of forest and coming night. Had he known about Legolas' condition and the unknown poison which slowly infiltrated the prince's blood, he would surely have protested this course of action. But things being as they were, a slight wave of relief settled his abnormally frayed nerves, and he was confident that if anyone could rescue his brother it would be Legolas.

_It will do me no good to worry about such things now, one task at a time_, the voice in his mind scolded lividly. Grasping tightly to the reins of the two horses, he leaned heavily on a tree, jaw clenched against the throbbing pain of his leg. It had already begun to heal, as was the blessing of his race, but not nearly quickly enough to satisfy Elrohir. Patience was a virtue that, like most elves, Elrohir had mastered. However, helplessness and frustration were emotions not so easily dealt with. The bones had been set and secured in a makeshift splint consisting of a plank of stray wood and ample bandages wound very tightly around his lower leg. He could bend the knee, but not with ease. He gingerly took a step forward, testing its strength and his tolerance.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Elrohir drew in a deep breath and with it the strength of the Valar.

Leaves crunched softly.

A marked change in the wind…he was not alone-

In his weakened haze Elrohir forced the clouds from his cluttered mind, his luminous eyes darting attentively to pinpoint the newcomer's position. He was barely detectable, this intruder, almost as though he moved with the skill of an.

In the next moment, he spun around just as - "ELROHIR!" Elrohir grasped the assailant tightly by the arm, his elvish knife poised with deadly precision, aimed mere centimeters from an exposed throat which now tightened with shock and surprise, uttering a cry that Elrohir had not expected. He blinked once, wide-eyed in surprise, as he gazed into features that mirrored his own. Relaxing his grip fractionally, he gasped. An enormous grin brightened features that had become accustomed to the sorrowful scowl he had adopted since he had learned of Mithrandir's disappearance.

"Elladan?"

He breathed, the response sounding weaker than he had intended as the momentary adrenaline rush faded as quickly as it had arisen. The dagger dropped absently from his grasp, lost in the heavy embrace of his brother -- Elrohir nearly falling forward in relief, Elladan nearly crushing him with the conviction in his supportive arms.

"Elladan! Where have you been? When Legolas told me of your disappearance I feared the worst, especially after the treachery of Lamias. Are you alright?"

They separated slightly, Elrohir sternly looking his brother over from head to foot. Neither could contain their happiness in the unexpected reunion.

"I am in one piece at least, brother. And in better condition than you it would seem."

His smile faded, losing its glee and he clasped Elrohir's shoulder reassuringly.

"Tell me, what has happened here? I was delayed on my way to Lorien and when I arrived in Mirkwood, King Thranduil informed me that my youngest brother as well as Legolas, had set off in search of you towards the Firien Forrest in the ancient haven of Lamias. I left immediately, suspecting that trouble had claimed the three of you, or rather more accurately, a reversal of my fear as is usually the case," Elladan breathlessly explained. He eyed the injured leg and noted the hastily applied bandage which by now was red with blood.

A rush of relief washed over Elrohir as his brother finished his tale. The knowledge that Elladan was safe and by his side seemed to renew the hope and optimism that days of imprisonment had dimmed but not destroyed. He paused, arching an eyebrow in consideration of the new information.

"For once, Elladan, you are right. It seems Mithrandir's disappearance is linked to an evil darker than father had suspected." He closed his eyes, his somber mood returning as gray rain clouds settle on a weathered mountain. Elladan was safe and standing before him; at least Iluvatar had answered one prayer. The four of them together, reunited seemed to infuse a new energy within Elrohir. And the knowledge that he was no longer alone in his task gave him further strength.

He opened his eyes again, eyes livid in anger as the words flowed from his lips.

"Saruman the White has joined forces with the dark Lord of Mordor, rising in the land of shadow as we dally. With Saruman, King Elimerel himself has joined the evil one, claiming the glory of the elves is restored rather than diminished. I came here bearing our father's message and overheard such scheming while retiring to my quarters. "They detained me," he paused, shifting uncomfortably as he was suddenly reminded of the unpleasant experience, "I know not how long.

"Had it not been for Estel and Legolas, I may have died there, forgotten and in despair. In our attempt to escape, Estel was taken." He leaned back against the tree, annoyed by his own weakness. "It is good to see you, brother, but we cannot linger here. Time is cut short by need. As I could not go, Legolas has entered the camp to free Estel. We must take the horses to the northern gate and be ready for their escape."

"Then let us not waste what time we have. Can you ride, Elrohir?" Elladan replied, rising swiftly to his feet before helping his twin to stand. It pained him to see Elrohir in such a state, the cuts and prominent bruises visible on his face, the tattered bloodstains on his tunic and bandaged leg.

"Yes," came the reply. To Elladan's amazement Elrohir pulled himself into the saddle and with carefully concealed difficulty, managed to situate himself on Estel's patient horse. "Are you coming then?" His teasing words cast some light on the shadowed mood that had fallen between them.

Wordlessly, Elladan mounted his own horse and pulled Legolas' by the reins. He turned to secure the riderless horse firmly to his own and then squeezed lightly to a trot, stopping beside his brother. "Lead the way."

* * *

He kept to the shadows, strong arms grasping the unresponsive form, wrapped within his own cloak, tightly to his chest. The elf moved with as much swiftness and grace as he could muster. The burden he carried was heavy, both physically and emotionally. The ranger had not responded to Legolas' attempts to rouse him and the heat from his brow was worrisome. Legolas had never seen his friend in such a state and it was, in a way, shocking. Though the wounds were not fatal, Legolas knew that the torture had been extreme and the blood loss severe. And then there was the carving- the elf shivered, preferring not to think of it for the moment. Legolas, who considered Estel to be more elf than human, was suddenly aware of a concept which was all too foreign to his understanding - mortality.

"Please stay with me." He whispered as he moved.

There were so many questions to be answered, so many riddles to be solved. Now, as he made his way to the elusive northern gate, he could not keep his mind from wandering and its vain attempts to restore order to the chaos that had claimed his thoughts since they had arrived in Lamias. Where was Mithrandir? How could King Elimerel have become so corrupt? An elven king! He thought of his father just then, and regretted it as his worries increased. And Saruman the White, allied with Sauron in search of the One ring. Why would Elimerel join with Sauron? Surely he must know that Sauron does not share! It did not fit. It was all too much to absorb at once. In the wake of Mithrandir's absence, the world had turned upside down. Legolas had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a long struggle yet to come. Perhaps the time had finally come, the foreseen darkness that only Aragorn could ultimately conquer.

He chanced a glance at the unconscious man in his arms. Then suddenly, the ground seemed to rush towards him and he felt as if the world was spinning about him. As he neared the outskirts of the great hall, he slowed his stride. _Valar, please don't let me fall, not now!_ Lacking his usual grace, the ailing elf managed to duck undetected, behind a large tree. As gently as possible, Legolas lowered the ranger to the ground on his side to avoid further injury to the man's back. He sat there for a moment, eyes closed, breathing heavily as the strange feeling passed. It seemed that the spells were steadily worsening as the drug made its way through his system. Finally, he opened his eyes, relieved to find the ground precisely where it should be, beneath him. He leaned forward, gently feeling his friend's flushed cheek. He had cleaned the wounds as best he could given the small amount of water in his skin. It was the loss of blood and risk of infection which worried him, but nothing could be done about it now. The elf got to his feet and peered noiselessly into the night. The gate was in the sight of elven eyes now, standing just in the distance. Ten more minutes and he would be there.

"Legolas…help me to stand."

The elvish whisper, barely audible, startled the frazzled elf. He was not accustomed to being startled, or frazzled for that matter, but Legolas had not felt like himself since they had arrived in Lamias and even as he tended to his wounded friend, searching for the injuries not easily detected, he felt his consciousness pulled towards darkness. The stern request shook him free of his dismal thoughts. _What is happening to me? I cannot move without trembling…_

His eyes softened in concern as he met the clouded grey spheres of the fallen ranger, noting the dimmed contrast to their former silver brilliance. He managed a small smile, relieved to find Aragorn regaining consciousness and with it, his wits. "Lazy edan," he chided lightly. "I was afraid I would have to carry both you and your brother to Lord Elrond," he whispered. Though he smiled, the laughter did not reach his eyes.

Aragorn's throat contracted, as if he was preparing to speak, yet he said nothing. His mind desperately tried to sort out the situation, to separate reality from hallucination. Where was Arwen? What had in actuality been moments seemed as though eons of utter chaos long since passed, but not forgotten. He gazed dazedly at his closest friend, wondering how long Legolas had been at his side. He could not remember the elf's arrival.a small groan escaped his lips as he tried to move. A bad decision. Valar it hurt! The pain was everywhere at once, a fiery sensation consumed his back, but more stifling was the sharp agony between his shoulder blades. Feeling slightly more daring, he ventured a look around and found that he and Legolas were hidden in the shadow of a large tree. Oh yes, he remembered, black bark, of the trees of Lamias. He shifted, as if preparing to stand. "I…would not give you the satisfaction...mellon nin," came the delayed reply.

Legolas knelt to help him, offering as strong an arm as he could muster. The elf tried desperately to conceal his trembling limbs. It was not the weight -- Valar! Elves could hold at least twice as much of a burden. _Then what is it?_

Aragorn took the extended arm, using it to pull himself to his knees and then, with the elf's added aid, to his feet. Legolas could feel the edan slacken at his side, trying valiantly to support more of his own weight, but failing miserably. His head hung low for a moment, resting on Legolas' shoulder, but only for a moment. To Legolas' amazement and relief, the man steadied himself. The ranger's retort had heartened him, and he could see that Aragorn, while bruised, was not broken.

Aragorn opened his eyes fixing dilated, half focused spheres on the cool blue orbs of his elvish friend. Legolas could not conceal his weakness from his friend's searching glance. "You are not well Legolas, I can see it in your eyes. We must get to my herbs." Legolas felt the weight shift as his burden was lifted. Aragorn stood shakily beside him, but he stood.

"Speak for yourself." Legolas mumbled, half to himself, annoyed by his own malady. He offered his shoulder to the man, aware that the leg wound would hinder their speed. "Come, Estel, Elrohir is waiting at the gate," he replied in a hushed voice, testily taking a step forward.

But Aragorn did not move. Instead, he held his ground firmly, gently tugging on Legolas' arm. "What is it?" Legolas whispered in concern.

Aragorn's eyes shone in the moonlight. He stared at Legolas hesitatingly. Legolas' eyes narrowed, trying to understand the emotions playing so vividly in his friend's eyes. Panic?

"Legolas- the pain, it is tolerable expect." he whispered. Legolas could feel the pulse quicken. He waited for the ranger to continue. "My...my shoulders and between them- something is amiss…" he whispered, barely breathing.

"What do you feel?" Legolas ventured, dreading the answer.

"It...it is like burning ice...as though it were spreading slowly from the wound and outward…deeper…it steals my breath and my concentration." he explained, clearly searching for the words to describe what was indescribable. Aragorn swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He could not bring himself to ask and yet- "I must know Legolas, what have they done?"

Legolas felt hot tears well in his eyes as the ranger's distress permeated his heart. Aragorn seemed barely able to contain the panic welling within. He seemed so vulnerable, so very young at that moment. What they had done- Valar he did not understand it himself. He cleared his throat, turning more towards his friend. "Estel- they…inscribed characters. It is in the black speech of Mordor. I know not what it means or what evil lies in the casting, but I do know that we must get you to your father as soon as we can. I believe he will know what to do." The elf tried his best to sound confident and reassuring.

Aragorn was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes and nodded slightly, seeming to have come to some decision within himself.

"How do you feel- "

_Terrified_. His mind screamed. He sighed and shrugged. "In truth I have been better," the ranger replied, unable to suppress a small smile as the tension in the moment decreased. "As I said before, the rest of it is… tolerable- but the pain between my shoulders...it slowly grows in intensity and I fear…" he stopped. _I fear that it will drive me to insanity. I fear what evil has now been cast upon me. I am afraid._

"Estel, listen to me son of Elrond. You must not despair- we will get out of this cursed wood, I will take you to your father and then when this is settled we will find Mithrandir. We will." He encouraged, placing a hand on the human's grizzled cheek as if to command his full attention.

Aragorn's eyes were locked on the elf's. He nodded, taking a deep breath. Mustering both strength and courage, Aragorn straightened. Without another word, Legolas began to walk, gradually increasing his speed. Aragorn struggled, but managed to match his pace.

They set out slowly. They moved as swiftly and silently as possible, which was not saying much. The shadows were their allies as they moved between the cover of each shady casting, the larger trees providing for a more comfortable oasis.

* * *

Dalinor strode briskly through the dimly lit hall, an underground passage leading to the throne room. The summons had come just as the hour turned. His legs moved instinctively, leaving his mind free to wander, drifting in an out of the events that had passed since the strangers had arrived. Guilt had settled firmly within his conscience. He had done evil, a very evil thing -- he could still feel the ranger's blood, slick on his hands. He could picture the horrid characters, that dark language, and he could hear the ranger's words- _Allies to Elrond_. King Elimerel had anxiously requested an audience, _A strange time, the twilight before dawn,'_ the thought, half amused. Perhaps it had something to do with his excusing the legion of guards set to watch over the prisoner. It had been a small attempt to alleviate some of the guilt which plagued him. Legolas was there; he had felt the elf's presence throughout the entire ordeal, which only added to his shame. By now they were probably out of Lamias. _What am I doing? Either way, I am a traitor, be it to myself or to the King- either way I am cursed..._

He ascended rapidly, skipping steps, and arrived at the doors which to his surprise and anxiety, were wide open. He strode in, an air of sureness about him, unwilling to appear anything less than confident. Even before the long dark hair settled on his shoulders, the doors were shut behind him, colliding with a loud and definite boom. The room was lit by a number of torches lining the massive walls. They gave the place an eerie feel, almost a ritualistic ambiance. King Elimerel was seated before him at an elevation, hands resting flat on the elaborate arms of the beautifully crafted throne. He did not frown as Dalinor half expected, but instead smiled. The curve of the elf King's lips sent a cold shiver down Dalinor's spine. He made a quick sign of respect, then dropped to one knee to hear the King's words.

"Ah, Dalinor! Excellent work, your plan seems to be working perfectly," The King mused from his seat on the throne.

Dalinor remained silent, eyes narrow in carefully concealed confusion.

This seemed to please Elimerel as he continued, sure to notice the ever so slight change in demeanor of his closest confidant and friend. "The Prince has played right into our hands and we now have the two within our clutches. I have already dispatched two armed battalions to their location. All that remains is for me to make an entrance, with you by my side to command your troops."

Dalinor stared in disbelief at the King. Elimerel had known all along, had been watching Dalinor so closely. A good test. So he had seen the dismissal of the guard, had acknowledged it as a game of strategy. The move was almost too perfectly played. In fact, it had been easy for the Prince of Mirkwood to enter and now, with the poison hindering him and with the edan nearly senseless, they would be easily taken. As for Elrohir…

"And the third, Elrond's brat, will be coming to our gates at any moment, of this I am certain. He will come to help his friends escape and we will be waiting." The flames of the torches lighting the room danced diabolically in the King's eyes, reflected as though a portal into the deepest, blackest depths of his soul. There was pure evil there, and hatred.

_And with good reason,_ Dalinor's common sense reasoned, in horrific admiration of his King's brilliance. The edain were weak, clearly a lesser, more inferior people. The very thought that they would rule middle-earth.it angered Dalinor to no end. All of his previous experiences had taught him the edain were not worthy of Iluvatar's gift. He knew well the failure of Isildur, had seen them kill the forests to build their cities, hunt the animals for their sport, fight amongst each other as though animals themselves. And then there was this ranger, more like an elf than like a human in actuality. It was strange to Dalinor to see such a noble edan and to know what he had done had gone against everything he had ever valued or been taught to value; he pushed the thought from his mind. _One out of all makes no difference._ Still, his resistance had been unanticipated to say the least. Half of him had wanted to see what would happen, to test the limits, when he sent away the guard. But then again, it had never been an issue to him, really, whether the edain lived or died.

Now elves were a different story entirely.

Despite the inner battle he fought over the ranger's plight, Dalinor could not compromise his principles in regards to the Prince of Mirkwood or the sons of Elrond. Elimerel's treatment of them, alone, was enough to make Dalinor question the sanity of his king. The king that had been like a father to him all of these years.Dalinor would not allow this train of thought to continue, taking in a premature breath he derailed the train. _I am cursed._

"Yes, my Lord. All has come to pass. You have them at your mercy. Let us issue forth and claim your prize," he replied, standing and taking a bold step forward.

"Yes, let us proceed."

* * *

He did not expect this to be easy.

After years of the hunt, he did not expect that the end would provide for a smooth victory. _But I am so close._ And yet, while at the very brink of solving the mystery, he was suddenly thrust into another darker cause or what was developing into what he somehow knew would determine everything to come -- the ultimate battle between darkness and light that had somehow survived in those ancient days. And he would play his part, a part that now, more than ever, he was convinced would make an impact, and affect the outcome.

He had watched as the elf and the ranger made their way to Lamias. He had wanted to help them in their encounter with the orcs. Yet he could not reveal himself then or even now, not yet. Not until he was sure.

He shifted noiselessly from his perch in the trees, overlooking the clearing leading away from the main hall of Lamias. He watched as the elf, Dalinor, strode from the hall, issuing orders to a group of lower officers who immediately gathered round to gain their news. Though the Captain informed them of their orders, he did not break stride. The stranger cringed, a flame had been lit in the soul of Captain Dalinor and it would not easily die. He did not know what evil had been done that night, for he had had other business to attend to, but he did know that Dalinor had taken part and that the elf was changed. For better or for worse remained to be seen, but it seemed a radical and very volatile shift. It was sorrowful to see an elf so young subjected to so much turmoil and hatred.

And then Dalinor was gone. A moment later, King Elimerel emerged, mounted atop a noble black steed, surrounded by his warriors as they marched.

It had been close on the road, when they had been ambushed in the rain. He could not interfere then, watching from a slight distance. He remembered his hand, straying to his sword, itching to fly forward and assault. Yet he had stayed his thrust, patience claiming his reflexes and combating them. But the elf had known, and the ranger too. They had felt him then, as he hurried away in the face of an orc defeat.

And now, what part would he play?

The time would be soon when he would make his move. He too had his orders and his responsibilities. In the absence of the former, he was forced to adapt. _I only pray I am choosing wisely, if only the wizard were here._

Elrond's son would be waiting at the northern gate. He nodded, as if suddenly resolved. He would make sure that the Chieftain and the Prince made it to the northern gate in one piece or die in the attempt.

* * *

The shadows of trees mingled with the castings of dark clouds above as the night made ready for the entrance of day. Aragorn silently surveyed the area. They were so near, so near to the northern gate. Yet something was amiss. It had been far too quiet, too easy. He knew that if it came down to it he may not have the strength to wield his sword. And Legolas only seemed to be getting worse. A thousand possible causes raced through the skilled healer's head as he took in all the elf's symptoms. It was something that only affected elves, of that Aragorn was certain, since he would most certainly have been exposed as well. He noticed the distance in Legolas' eyes when he would fall into the strange moments of reverie. And he noticed the trembling. His friend hid it well, and if Aragorn did not know him as well as he did, it may appear nothing more than careful observation of their surroundings. And then there were the sounds to be observed.

He turned his head fractionally, stepping a bit apart from Legolas, who he still leaned against. Hushed elven footsteps everywhere, gathering around them. _It is a trap_, he acknowledged in dismay, not entirely surprised. "Legolas, listen," he whispered, pulling the elf from his reverie.

Legolas barely breathed, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, almost as a wind sweeping through the forest. How did he not hear that earlier? He smiled sarcastically. "Nothing less than what I expected," he sneered. He drew his bow, taking pleasure in the feel of the smooth wood in his hands, satisfied at its recovery.

Aragorn's hand flew to his waist to grasp empty air. He frowned. "They have my sword," he rasped, the words followed by a colorful string of elvish curses. "Legolas, we must try for the Northern gate, it lies just over there," Aragorn urged, suddenly inspired by the familiar trees marking the edge of the city's territory. Why hadn't they realized how close they were? _These damn trees, it's like Elrohir's rendition of the "haunted forest", they all look the same_ he mused, recalling the childhood memory and Elrohir's trickery.

"Then let us fly!" the familiar spark returned to the elf's eyes as they began to sprint. Aragorn tried with some difficulty to match the elf's graceful gait, but managing to some extent nevertheless. They pressed on, eyes locked on that one familiar tree. The entire city of Lamias was like a giant maze, every tree just like the one beside it. The Firien Wood itself was not so much better, although a marked improvement. They seized their chance now, even as the shadows morphed into figures, many figures of solidified darkness only becoming decipherable in the slanted beams of the weakening moon.

Moments later, they were surrounded, just strides from the living wall of vine which marked the northern gate. Throngs of elven soldiers emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn, arrows aimed, encircling them as the two prepared for the attack as best they could. Legolas again drew his bow. Aragorn pulled the hidden dagger from Legolas' boot and clutched it menacingly. Neither was willing to be taken.

The sheer numbers were staggering, nearly fifty elves from what Legolas could estimate.

"Well, Estel, we have seen worse," he whispered rather loudly, standing back to back with his long-time friend.

Aragorn shrugged. "And just what have we seen, mellon nin, that has ever been worse than this?" He shot back through gritted teeth, fighting to stand, adrenaline lending him strength that he did not have. It was difficult to recall a direr situation. While Aragorn would be the first to admit that they had seen many adventures and dangers together, the memory of something worse seemed to escape him at that moment. _Although, the wrath of the Lord of Rivendell is not to be taken lightly and would probably rival this._

They watched now, in silence, as the dense crowd settled and then the lines parted to allow King Elimerel himself to enter the circle. Dalinor followed at his side, sword clasped readily in hand, as obedient as ever.

* * *

_TBC...and for the students out there who are in the middle of midterms- hang in there! You are not alone! wink_


	9. Eight

**Author's Note:**

Hello again! So on with the adventure. Again, a HUGE, gigantor, ENORMOUS thank you to all who reviewedchapter7 :**mbali, Lyn, lindahoyland, greeneyedelf001, Elfinabottle, Ainu Laire (**for the review and the info:) and of course my wonderful Beta **viggomaniac**.You all are what motivate me to keep posting and it is so helpful to hear your comments and encouragement.

Much love!

-Athena

p.s. Please, please consider reviewing andlet me know what you think of the chapter. It is so much more fun to get feedback!

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**Eight ****  
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"If you want to save your friends you will do as I say."

Elladan and Elrohir sat silently, eyes fixed intently on the man who now stood before them. They had been waiting at the gate for some time now, patiently searching for any sign of Legolas and Aragorn. They had remained there for the better part of hour when suddenly the city seemed alive with movement and activity. It was a sure sign that the two had been discovered, and the rescue attempt had failed. And now, as though from thin air, a strange man stood before them and dared to give them…an ultimatum? But at least neither was surprised by his presence.

"So you finally make yourself known." Elrohir spoke, his eyes narrowed in discernment. He had felt the other's presence nearly since the start of his journey. The man had the skill of a ranger, skill enough to remain unseen, yet even he could not escape the superior hearing abilities of an elf.

The man bowed low in respect. "Yes, I am Owen, a ranger. I am here to offer my services. I will gladly answer your questions after we have rescued them." He was a youngish man, probably around Aragorn's age, though there were marked differences. His long hair was straight and dark, tied neatly back and tucked behind his ears. Long strands fell astray, about his face. His face was grizzled and unshaven but his eyes were most striking, for they were a bright green, in stark contrast to his otherwise dark features. He was tall and broad-shouldered, obviously no inexperienced woodsman. But his clothing was strange; it was not the typical garb of the rangers of the north. The brown leggings and green tunic, partially concealed by the dark brown cloak he wore, were more like that of a ranger of the south than of the north.

Elrohir frowned, stealing a glance at Elladan and finding no decision there. In fact, Elladan's indecision was a bit unnerving since Elrohir, though he hated to admit it, had grown accustomed to looking to his older brother for guidance in such grim situations. It did not matter now. They had precious little time. It was difficult to trust, but there seemed no other option and Elrohir would rather take his chances with the mortal than with the entire Lamias. Three against an army seemed slightly better odds than two. He shot Elladan a final searching glance and then turned his attention back to the supposed ranger. "What do you propose?"

"They have been discovered. I know of a secret way in, but I will need a diversion in order to get them out. Elimerel does not know of my presence, and that is our advantage. If you can divert the forces to this main gate, I am certain that I can find them and free them."

Elrohir considered this for a moment. The man was tall and sturdily built. At that moment, from his stoic expression to his long sword, he looked very much like a well seasoned ranger. Elrohir's curiosity was sufficiently piqued. Having no help from Elladan, he quickly assessed their current situation. He would be of little help in battle; his leg could not yet bear the necessary pressure and had barely begun to heal. Elladan, though a skilled warrior, could not hope to succeed against an army. And for some strange and inexplicable reason, his instincts told him to trust this man, and to do it quickly. He nodded. "I can think of no other option. What must we do?"

* * *

King Elimerel strode forward. Legolas could feel the heavy weight of what felt like a thousand arrowheads pointed at him, each with an incredible amount of latent energy eager to be unleashed. It was intense and every muscle in his body seemed to tighten with anticipation. They were hopelessly outmatched, outnumbered, and out of options. To make matters worse, he felt ill. It was an incredibly discomfiting feeling and try as he might, he could no longer block out the aching, spinning feeling that lurked on the edge of his awareness. It was growing worse and he was beginning to lose the control he fought so hard to maintain.

"You were right before -- it could be worse." Aragorn breathed, more to himself, as the words absently slipped from his lips. He felt Legolas' blank stare and the sight of the wide eyes forced a small smile to play on his grim features. He leaned heavily on Legolas for support, knowing that Legolas himself struggled to keep his footing. Realizing the absurdity of the situation, he shrugged. "Well it could be."

Legolas shook his head in mock frustration, sighing in resignation. "I will never understand."

Their hushed exchange was abruptly cut off as the King stopped only paces away. "If you value your lives you will drop your weapons. I assure you, while truthfully you are more valuable to me alive, your deaths will cause for me no loss of sleep."

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances. To comply would surely mean death, yet to fight in their condition would undoubtedly reap the same result. Their hope lay now with strategy and not strength. 'And by the grace of the Valar,' Legolas mused as he slowly lowered his bow to the ground. As soon as the weapons were down, four guards emerged from the ring, firmly taking hold of the prisoners. Elimerel advanced, swiftly backhanding Legolas across the face. The elf prince growled in anger but managed to curb his temper. Losing it now would not help their situation.

Elimerel then grabbed Aragorn roughly by the collar and punched him solidly in the gut. Aragorn gasped in surprise, the air escaping his lungs. His side burned in pain. Before he could recover the corrupted king dragged him forward and then with remarkable force, slammed him against a nearby tree. Aragorn could not stifle a cry of pain as his raw back collided with the rough bark; the strange and angry wound between his shoulder blades was by far the worst of the pain. Black spots clouded his vision. Elimerel smiled in satisfaction before pulling him forward, only to push him back again, the second collision worse than the first. Aragorn moaned in agony, feeling himself on the edge of the abyss.

"I hate you, adan." The King sneered through gritted teeth.

Again the ranger was slammed mercilessly into the tree. He could sense the warm blood flowing again, sticking to what was left of his tunic.

"You and your kind are pitiful, primal and inferior!"

Somewhere, far off, he thought he could hear Legolas, but the words were muffled now and he had not the will to decipher them.

"Who do you think you are?"

He just wanted the pain to end.

"Who do you think you are!" The King screamed at the barely conscious man before him. This adan who Elrond would see a king, would see rule Arda. "WHO!"

Aragorn blinked, desperate to remain conscious. The angry demand resounded in his head. 'WHO…WHO?' Suddenly, he found his voice.

"Who are you…?" He stammered, his voice a whisper. And then, as though possessed by some greater power, he met the evil elf's gaze with hard, determined eyes of slate grey. "Who are you, traitorous king, tyrannical minion of Sauron or Saruman or whatever darkness you serve?" The elven language flowed from his lips, adding credence to his claim. "I am Estel, son of Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, ally to Lamias by an oath of allegiance." His steely gaze shifted from Elimerel to Dalinor. There they remained, fixed on the quivering elf. "You owe him your allegiance!" Aragorn raged in sudden fury.

Dalinor stirred from where he stood beside Legolas.

Words failed to justly convey the intensity of the hatred radiating from Elimerel's very being. He trembled with fury, drawing his sword and readying to deal the last blow. His eyes were alit with the fire of abhorrence and indignation.

"NO!" Legolas raged, struggling with renewed fury against the arms that held him.

Dalinor's attention to the scene before him suddenly shifted as awareness of a low murmur among the ranks crept into his consciousness. Dalinor turned in confusion, observing with growing concern the disquiet and anxiety among the soldiers. "What is…?" He began. And then he smelled it. Smoke, thick, heaving, suffocating smoke which could only mean-

"FIRE!" An elf shouted, his voice crying the alarm. Again, a voice cried out in sheer terror, "FIRE!" All gazes shifted to the eerie flames dancing in the near distance as the northern gate of Lamias became a blazing inferno. The dry leaves on the ground ignited with lightning swiftness and the blaze spread rapidly before them. The alarm was sounded as, in the rapidly ensuing chaos, the elves began to break ranks.

Legolas gasped in disbelief, still fighting the grip of his captors. His ears perked suddenly as a high pitched whistled heralded the arrival of two arrows finding their marks. The two guards at his side fell lifelessly to the ground. He seized his chance, breaking free of their grasp and lifting his bow while nearly simultaneously notching three arrows.

Mass confusion reigned as the death of the two elven soldiers registered among the ranks of the Lamian elves. A loud murmur rose from the rows of elven soldiers as they rushed to deal with the fire. Legolas stood, suddenly free, bow in hand. Elimerel lowered his sword in surprise, trying to determine exactly what was happening. Momentarily forgetting the ranger, he turned towards the commotion in time to watch two more of his men being felled by arrows. His forces were dividing as soldiers rushed to dealing with the rapidly spreading flames.

"My Lord!"

Elimerel searched for the source of the urgent cry.

"King Elimerel!" With unconcealed urgency in his voice, Dalinor stepped forward with his petition to the king, rapidly assessing the growing chaos. The soldiers were torn with indecision; still, most held their ground, waiting for a command that their King seemed unable to give.

"We must break ranks and tend the fire, my lord. It is spreading too rapidly. You must give the order…!"

"No! I will give no such order. This ends now. I will not risk losing the prisoners. Any elf breaking rank will be dealt with accordingly!"

Dalinor gasped in shock and frustration as the flames danced in his King's eyes as a visual manifestation of the insanity which undoubtedly dwelled there.

Dalinor's features hardened. "But your people are dying, we must tend to the fire before the entire wood…"The intensity of the situation only magnified as the flames reached the dwelling houses and meeting hall. It would take a massive effort to stop.

"You have my command!" The king spat back, still clutching Aragorn by the collar, only now he extended the sword towards his captain of the guard.

Loyalty. It was the only word that Dalinor could clearly think of. Loyalty. But to whom? To his king? He shivered in disgust at what his fair city had become, a place of death and coldness, where even the leaves withered, the very leaves which took to flame so easily as though in a final statement of sorrow. Thoughts of his friends and comrades, their faces twisted in hatred and their hearts cold with dissatisfaction, both instilled by the king who would lead them to peace and prosperity, filled his mind. It was not the way of the elves; it was a dark existence, one that had demanded isolation and distrust. What was to separate them from the orcs? Since when did the will of an evil Istari weigh heavier than the welfare of his people? The adan was right, Lamias was a sworn ally to Imladris and Dalinor by virtue of this, was called to be loyal to Lord Elrond. At the same time, he was loyal to Lamias and his people, as Elimerel once was.

Once was.

He turned suddenly, heedless of Elimerel's rage-filled protests, and addressed the army of elves. "All forces will follow me and see to the fire!" he commanded. The message was passed along quickly among the ranks. Dalinor did not look back, did not see Elimerel's crazed look of betrayal and hatred as he reached for the dagger and prepared to throw.

With a final effort, Aragorn took advantage of the distraction and lashed out, landing a well placed punch squarely in the king's abdomen. Elimerel stumbled back in surprise, dropping the dagger but raising his sword. He pounced and Aragorn ducked as best he could, narrowly avoiding the attack. Elimerel wasted no time in coming around again, this time backhanding the mortal across the face with the hilt of his sword. Aragorn staggered, struggling to hold his ground, preparing himself for the coming onslaught as Elimerel charged, sword raised and glimmering as the flames reflected off of the steel. He watched, as though in slow motion, as the final stroke was dealt.

But it never came. Aragorn stared in shock as Elimerel stood, frozen before him, the sword dropping from his grasp. An arrow protruded from his chest, through the heart. The elf king dropped to his knees, then crumpled to the forest floor -- dead.

In that moment, as his body collapsed, Legolas Greenleaf stood in clear view, arms still extended as though the bow still held its arrow. Aragorn nodded fractionally in appreciation. He swayed, then fell to his knees, trembling on the ground, breathing heavily as the world stopped spinning.

Legolas sighed in relief and bounded forward, vaguely aware of the stray arrows that now flew at him. The elves were in disarray, most now following Dalinor and fighting the fire, some remaining behind the King and his vengeful cause, only to desert in the wake of the King's death. It was at this moment that the supposed ranger, Owen, dropped from the trees and met Legolas in mid-stride.

Legolas tensed, going for his dagger, but the man held his hands up in surrender. "Peace, Prince of Mirkwood, I am a friend and have come to help you. I know of the secret way out and will take you to the sons of Elrond."

The elf's distrust was conveyed clearly in the frigid quality of his brilliant blue eyes, which made no effort to conceal the prince's distrust. The sons? Could that mean Elladan is with him? He did not dare to hope. Legolas sensed the urgency in this stranger's voice, a marked contrast to the calm demeanor he tried to convey. He was a ranger of sorts. Legolas could tell by the garb and weapons. He vaguely remembered the battle on their way to the Firien Wood, and the presence he felt tracking them. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because, in all due respect, you have no other option."

This Legolas could not deny. He nodded in assent, pushing past the man to Aragorn. Aragorn was doubled over on his knees, a hand resting shakily against the tree. His head was bowed and dark strands of hair concealed his face. "Estel…" Legolas knelt beside him and turned his friend's face towards him in an effort to see his eyes. He was vastly relieved when the silver eyes fluttered open.

Aragorn smiled. "Nice shot," he murmured, catching his breath.

Legolas could not help but smile. "Let us leave here and find your brothers before they kill each other," he replied, offering his arm. Owen appeared at Aragorn's other side and together they got him to his feet. The three hurried away, eager to escape the commotion, leaving the dead king's body to rot, unmourned and unnoticed.

**

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So, the adventure begins as they finally escape from Lamias...tbc****

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**

**_A special note to Lyn…_**

_Thanks for you comments! I usually like to respond to each review individually (via e-mail) but I would like to address some of your comments here. Especially the wording errors, I don't know if you've read my previous author's notes, but it is certainly something I struggle with and will continue to struggle with._

_To begin, I have considered your very good point about assessing the consequences of torture- the nice thing about fiction, especially middle earth AUs, is that there is something to be said for imagination as well as a certain magical element._

_I am less concerned with specifics in regards to how a person would respond to torture physically as opposed to the psychological angst the torture brings about. That is what fascinates me. But to address your remarks-_

_Elrohir is an elf. I am no expert, but I work under the assumption that elves have a higher tolerance for pain as well as an expedient healing factor. Since ( to the best of my knowledge) Tolkien was not very specific on this matter, there is no telling to exactly what extent Elrohir's lineage combined with adrenaline would have aided him in the escape._

_As for Aragorn's unfortunate circumstances- the nature of the injury is significant in that there is a magical/sinister element to it. His previous wounds were well cared for because Elimerel needs him alive. His Numenorean blood will also be of help in the coming obstacles that the group will face. Will he survive? I can't say as of yet ;)_

_As far as plausibility goes- in my opinion it is secondary to the priorities of good plot, good character development, good angst and reader enjoyment. **If a lack of plausibility interferes with any of these elements then I become concerned**. In a perfect world, perhaps, I would have ample time to research all of the intricacies but things being as they are (and me barely having time to sleep as it is) I don't think it will happen this time around._

_Thanks again for the helpful comments and thank you for reading! I will keep them in mind in the future when planning to torture our heroes which, unfortunatley for them, is bound to be a common occurance!_

_- Athena_


	10. Nine

**Author's Note:**

Hello! Sorry this took so long. A huge thanks to my most recent reviewers: **lindhoyland, IWantMore, QueenFlarmphgal** and of course **Viggomaniac!**I am so excited to use the new "reply" feature on the review page! What a great idea...Well, thenext chapter (ten)is almost finished. I'll try and post sooner, it seems that reviews really help motivate me to update so please feel free to let me know what you think of the story (hinthint :) )

Good luck to all of you who are gearing up for final exams. Wowzer!

-Athena

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* * *

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**Nine**

They had been traveling for what seemed like endless days, but which in fact amount to only three hours, before finally resolving to make camp and rest their weary horses. The reunion had been short and rushed, and only now did the company find time to evaluate their current condition. Behind them, the air remained heavy with smoke and ash, a choking reminder of the fate of a once great nation. They had made haste in their departure from the cursed Firien wood and now resolved to stop for a space and reevaluate their plan of action.

Elladan was the first to dismount, helping his twin to follow. Elrohir hissed in pain as his tender and injured leg made contact with the ground. They had shared Elladan's mare. Legolas too dismounted, albeit with some difficulty, and helped Aragorn to the ground from his shared seat on the elf's stallion. No one seemed to notice the way his weight rested heavily on the horse when he stood on his feet. Even Aragorn did not seem to notice; he had been silent after their initial reunion.

Owen, the ranger, was the last to step firmly on the leaf strewn ground, gathering the reins in his hands before gently stroking his horse's mane in appreciation for the hard ride she had endured at his expense

For his part, Aragorn was lost in many senses of the word. His mind was muddled and fuzzy, unable to get past the constant haze of intense pain that had settled there. The strange sensation of the mark left him oddly weak and dumbfounded. It seemed to suppress all other sensation and grew steadily worse. But it had not beaten him…yet. He drew in a deep breath, biting back the nausea he felt having dismounted from the horse with much discomfort. It was then that he felt eyes resting heavily upon him. He gripped the horse's saddle as though for dear life and used it to anchor him back into reality, opening his eyes to meet familiar ones. "Elladan… thank the Valar you are safe… How did you manage to find us?" Aragorn managed breathlessly, as his brother came towards him to lay a hand gently over his own.

"I was delayed on the way to Lothlorien. By the time I reached Mirkwood, I learned of Elrohir's absence and that you and Legolas had gone in search of him. I have been tracking the two of you since and stumbled upon Elrohir just before Master Owen appeared, coming to our aid."

At the mention of his name, the strange ranger turned his attention from his horse to the group, nodding as though ever at their service.

Elladan continued, while helping Aragorn to the ground beside a large oak tree, mindful of his injuries and especially of his back. The tunic he wore concealed the angry and unusual mark and so it remained unknown to them. "Though", he said as he glanced warily at their new companion, "in all my dealings with the Dunedain, I have never heard of a ranger from the north by the name of Owen. And your face does not seem familiar to me."

"I am certain that we have never met either, and I am a chieftain among my people." Aragorn concurred, from his place beside the tree. He forced his mind and body to function, to work past the pain. "By the looks of you, I would guess you are from the south."

"Aye, I may not be known to you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, but you are known to me, as are the twin sons of Elrond and the famed prince of Mirkwood. I am but a humble ranger, and new to my profession. Long have I traveled these lands and yes, parts more southern, as a trapper and a scout's man, but only recently have I discovered the blood in my veins and the responsibility it requires of me. I am friend to Gandalf the Grey and to any who would serve him."

"And just how, good ranger, did you happen to travel through this forsaken wood with its forgotten peoples? Random chance?" Elladan fired back, making no attempt to mask the distrust in his voice. Elrohir winced at the sharpness of his tone.

"Peace Elladan," he began, puzzled by his brother's blatant hostility towards the stranger.

Legolas, swaying slightly on his feet, interjected. "He was tracking us, Elladan and I felt his presence long before he chose to make himself known. The question is why."

Owen seemed undisturbed by their accusatory stares and suspicions. He continued to clear a spot for the fire, a few feet away from Aragorn, pausing only momentarily to reply. "I was summoned by Gandalf to the House of Elrond, and when I… learned of his disappearance, I resolved to follow and observe at a safe distance." He fell silent. "That is all I can tell you at this time. I must ask you to trust that I am a friend to the wizard and wish no ill upon him. We should make a fire, for the night will be cold and very dark especially this close to the cursed wood."

Legolas began to speak and then stopped abruptly, his comments forgotten as he suddenly felt the world tilt around him. Without the adrenaline to sustain him and the herbs to fool his body into believing it was well, he felt his strength rapidly waning. A sigh escaped him as his legs gave out, forcing him to his knees. He stayed like that, hands laid flat on the brown grass and dirt, head bent, lungs heaving until a strong hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"Legolas!" Elrohir cried, barely managing to limp towards the prince in time to collapse with him to the forest floor. "What is wrong? What has happened?" Elladan was also at his side, his eyes darting between Elrohir's nervous glare and Owen's inquisitive gaze.

"Alas!... he has been poisoned," Aragorn gasped, inwardly chastising himself for not addressing it sooner. "I suspect that it is Kanine, but I cannot be positive. Owen, have you any Greencurrent and Arguil root? When mixed, I believe if administered early enough they will counteract the poison. I gave him what herbs I had, but I fear it only masked what havoc the poison is wreaking on his body." Aragorn explained, his voice raspy and rough with sorrow.

"Yes I have them, I am sure of it." The ranger of the south abandoned his task and went immediately to his saddlebags. In the meantime, Elrohir and Elladan helped Legolas to lie down.

"How do you fare?" Elrohir's soft voice penetrated the foggy haze that seemed to blanket the younger elf's senses.

"I…I feel very dizzy… almost airborne. And my …eyes are so..heavy…just.." Legolas tossed slightly, as though fighting hard to stave the weariness which crashed down upon him like waves on the shore. Wave after wave seemed to assault his being, destroying the dam that had kept them at bay, dragging him down beneath freezing waters, preventing him from even breathing. He wheezed, his lungs unable to draw in and expel air as efficiently as they had only hours ago.

"Easy Legolas, you will feel better soon. Fight this!" Elrohir soothed, stroking the elf's glistening brow. How could the elf be deteriorating so rapidly? Why had he not noticed sooner? Had he been too preoccupied with his own pain to notice the way Legolas had stumbled during battle? Surely he had seen the way the elf had closed his eyes while riding during their escape. And suddenly he was outraged, not at his dear friend who lay struggling beside him, but at the wry humor that the Valar seemed to possess. "We have not faced a twisted elf king, battled a massive army and then escaped a burning wood just to have you succumb to some dried leaves mixed into your soup! I will not stand for it!"

"With…due respect…my dear Elrohir…these leaves…are more troublesome…than you may think…" Legolas slurred, fighting to focus.

Aragorn lay prone on the ground, his head resting on his up bent forearm as he tried to relieve the pressure from his back. He cocked his head up, observing Owen as the younger man bent over the now blazing fire as they rushed to concoct the necessary remedy. "That's right, now pour it just so. Make sure that it is ground to a fine dust before the two are mixed. Excellent." Aragorn instructed as Owen warmed the mixture over the flame. His head once again fell to his forearm as he mustered the strength he would need to endure the steadily increasing agony that threatened his sanity. _Keep it together, you must help Legolas. Iluvatar help me to keep it together…_

To say that Aragorn was weary would be an understatement. Pain seemed a constant companion now, relentless in its presence and steadily rising in its intensity. He banished it from his mind as best he could, determined not to let it distract him in Legolas' hour of need. The potent tincture was Legolas' only hope, but there would be a price. It would indeed shock his system and most likely make him violently ill, something the elf had never experienced. If he lasted the night, the ill effects would subside and Legolas would surely recover. If not, the combination of remedy and poison could become lethal, causing excruciatingly painful spasms leading to paralysis and ultimately slow death, probably due to asphyxiation. Aragorn had not the heart to tell this to his brothers, let alone Legolas himself.

Owen's words broke him from his dismal reverie. "I only hope that we are not too late," the strange ranger spoke, his words conveying deep sincerity. "I know little of herb lore, but I do know of Kanine poison and its effects on elves. If not treated within three days of their exposure, there is little hope. It clouds the head and paralyzes the body until the lungs can no longer function and the afflicted is lost in a hazy sleep, never to rise. The remedy itself is toxic, a necessity in that the body must be shocked into fighting the Kanine if the afflicted is to have a chance at survival."

Aragorn's eyes did not leave the fire. "I know of the poison and the danger in its remedy. I know of the battle he will face this night." His tone was grave, low with regret. Aragorn straightened a bit, supporting his upper body on his elbows in order to face Owen more squarely. "He is strong, Master Ranger. The prince of Mirkwood is one of the strongest elves I know. He has seen much worse odds and I do not expect him to succumb now." He replied with confidence. "Now, please, take the vial to Elrohir…quickly." _You must, for I can barely move without cringing…Iluvatar have mercy…_

Owen nodded curtly and immediately rose, making his way to where Elrond's sons worked to comfort the prince. He knelt now, carefully stirring the thick liquid. "Elrohir, please help him to sit up," he directed. "Prince Legolas, I must ask your help in this. As Aragorn has directed, you must swallow the medicine in its entirety. It is very bitter, but you must do this."

Legolas gasped weakly, blinking sluggishly as he fought to pay attention. He was slowly losing control of his limbs, this he knew. On the verge of panic, he ground out his reply, "I…will….try." He rested against Elrohir's supportive chest as Elladan helped position his head. Owen spooned out the concoction and carefully fed it to the fallen prince.

Legolas tried his best to comply, nearly inhaling the medicine at times. "Slowly. That's it Legolas, one more." Elrohir coaxed, as though persuading a child to eat his vegetables. He sighed in relief when Legolas managed to swallow the last of the remedy.

"Now what?" Elladan pressed.

Aragorn's voice was muffled, as his brow rested firmly on his forearms once again. "We must wait… I think we are not too late, the paralysis had not yet reached his throat and he was able to take it down…Now we must let the medicine do its work. He will have a difficult night, all we can do is keep him comfortable." It was obvious speaking took great effort as his breaths came in labored gasps.

Elrohir's gaze fell immediately on his younger brother, fear gripping his heart. This was very uncharacteristic of the death-defying, danger-dodging ranger. For Aragorn to be debilitated to the point of incapacitation had to mean that he was in far more danger that the elf had originally realized. _What have we missed?_

Almost as though reading his thoughts, Legolas' weaking grasp on his hand brought his attention to the elf prince in his arms. Legolas moved his lips to speak, but could not immediately vocalize the words as the drug began to take affect. "…Estel…" he rasped, his voice barley audible. He pulled Elrohir closer. "…his back…El..ro..hir…his…back…" he whispered just as the darkness overcame him.

"Right, then let's get him settled by the fire." Elladan, having not heard the prince's strained words, motioned towards the fire where Aragorn was laying, unmoving. The horses were secured to a nearby tree. Elladan gently took Legolas' now senseless form from his brother's embrace and began to rise when Elrohir pulled gently on his sleeve.

"Elladan, I fear for Estel. He suffers."

Elladan looked to his youngest brother and then back at Elrohir. He nodded, as though validating Elrohir's concern. "I will see to him as soon as I take Legolas to the fire," he replied, continuing to rise. He walked to the fire and laid the elf prince down on a newly spread bed roll, covering him with his own cloak, before turning to Aragorn. Elrohir, with great effort and the support of Owen's sturdy arm, managed to drag himself to the fire as well, and now, unable to move any further, set to the task of watching over Legolas as Elladan began to examine their younger brother.

"I will go in search of more wood and game for our supper. I shall return shortly." The young ranger of the south announced, seizing his bow before turning towards the dark and shadowy woods. Neither of the elves protested, each fairly occupied with their fallen companions.

Elladan knelt beside Aragorn, his hands hovering over the trembling form. He could see the dark crimson seeping through the shredded and tattered garments that still hung from the human. With nimble and gentle hands, he peeled back the material, eyes narrowed in concentration as he took in the damage before him.

Aragorn's back was raw and decorated with many angry lash wounds. But most obvious was the hideous markings between his shoulder blades -- markings carved into flesh and made red with still seeping blood. Elladan felt vaguely aware of having seen markings of this type before. He did not speak, he simply examined his badly injured brother with his eyes and hands.

Aragorn shuddered, biting down hard on his lip, eyes clenched tightly shut.

From his place by Legolas, Elrohir strained to see what Elladan was so intently examining, though the shadows cast by the dancing flames hindered his view. "What is it brother? Why does he trembled so?"

Elladan hesitated before responding. "He received a severe lashing which has been aggravated by ill treatment and beatings. I have an ointment that will numb the area and relieve his pain at least for now." He replied, pulling the small, black vial from a concealed pouch on his belt. Elladan uncorked the small container and tipped a small amount of the contents onto the markings. The reaction was immediate. Aragorn gasped, barely stifling the cry of pain that rose to his lips. Elladan did not hesitate any longer, placing both of his hands on the wound and smoothing the mixture into it, mingling the black and thick substance with the chieftain's blood.

Aragorn felt hot tears trail down his cheeks. The pain was so intense, so maddening and then --- it was suddenly gone. He felt the tension in his body release as the painful sensation gently lessened to a dull ache until the feeling of his brother's massaging hands felt comforting. It felt so good, so so good. He breathed in deeply, inwardly praising the Valar for their mercy. "Elladan…" he breathed, "thank you, brother." His forehead still resting on his arms, Aragorn closed his eyes in relief.

The elf simply smiled, moving to clean his hands with some of the remaining water in his skin. "You will feel better soon, Estel. I will dress it now to prevent infection."

Elrohir heard the exchange and was satisfied. He glanced at Legolas beside him and released his own sigh of relief. Perhaps things were looking up after all.

* * *

Hours passed.

It was late into the night, now. Owen had returned sometime ago, with two rabbits and an armload of wood. They had eaten as much as they could before falling into silence as they waited for the dawn, and for Legolas to awaken. Owen had tried to stay awake, but Elrohir could see how his head nodded forward every now and again as, being mortal, he could not fight the seduction of sleep for long.

The forest seemed devoid of all nightlife, not a sound broke the heavy atmosphere nor did the winds rustle a single leaf. The forest was in mourning. Elrohir could feel it. The fire had done much damage. It was cold regardless, even to an elf. _As though death itself roamed these woods._

Aragorn rested against a tree, dozing peacefully in what appeared to be a healing sleep. His wounds had been dressed and cleaned and the weariness he felt had finally overcome him. The worst of his injuries, at least according to Elladan, were the wounds sustained on his back. They were raw and deep, leaving the ranger weak and weary. These wounds combined with the others he had sustained in their attempt to flee Lamias had taken their toll on the human. The evil elves had at least dressed the arrow wounds well, of that Elrohir was thankful. Elladan had taken great care in dressing the potentially infected wounds marring his back.

Elladan had not told them of the strange markings he had found between the ranger's shoulders.

Elrohir gently massaged his healing leg, now tightly wrapped and splinted. He fought back the feeling of sorrow and anger which welled within him. Elimerel was dead, Estel and Legolas would recover, now they had to focus on the task at hand, finding Mithrandir.

His own leg was feeling marginally better after Owen had helped to properly splint it. He rested now beside Elladan as together they kept watch while the others slept.

Elladan's rough voice pulled him from his reverie. "Elrohir, I do not trust this strange ranger." Elrohir waited for him to explain. "Do you think it mere coincidence that he arrives at the darkest hour, when we are in most dire need? Is it coincidence that he has in his possession the two rare roots Estel needed to make the tincture? And that he has only recently become a ranger so that none of us, including Estel, have ever heard of him or known him? I do not like this, he knows too much and it concerns me."

"It is indeed unlikely to be coincidence. Still..." he paused, wrapping his cloak more tightly about him. "I cannot help but feel that he is telling the truth and that he is sincere in his concern for Mithrandir."

Elladan snorted in disapproval. " You are sometimes too trusting for your own good, Elrohir."

"Since when have you become so irritable?" Elrohir retorted, puzzled by his brother's agitated body language.

"Since my brothers and my best friend nearly died tonight," he snapped back, then seemed to regret the acidic tone. "Forgive me, it has been a long night and I am not at ease with all that has and is happening. Mithrandir's absence does not sit well with me. Maybe we should go to the ring and make sure that it is safe."

"What? Have you lost your senses Elladan? That is the last thing we shall do!"

"Are you certain it is safe where it is?" Elladan shot back defensively.

"You know as well as I do that the ring is too dangerous to touch without Mithrandir's counsel and that we are not to speak aloud of its current state of being."

"Argh!"

The conversation abruptly ended as both pairs of eyes turned to the source of the anguished cry. To Elrohir's dismay, Legolas began to thrash wildly beneath the cloak, his arms wrapping around his abdomen, knees curling towards his chest. Elrohir and Elladan were by his side in a moment. The younger elf trembled as his muscles spasmed, as though truly at battle with the oppressive poison which threatened to paralyze them for good. His breaths came in short, painful gasps as a sharp, stabbing pain erupted once more down the entirety of his torso. The prince moaned again, this time waking both Aragorn and Owen.

Elrohir tried to comfort the prince as best he could, placing a firm hand on the prince's shoulder. He turned his concern immediately to Aragorn. "Amin dele ten' ho. This cannot be normal!"

Estel shook his head sadly. "I am afraid it is, this will be a difficult night." Legolas cringed again, tears streaming down his cheek from eyes clenched shut. " We are here with you Legolas, you are not alone." Aragorn whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he brushed stray strands of hair from his friend's face.

"I…am trying…" Legolas ground out, his arms clenched tightly about him, the trembling increasing. " Valar, it hurts," he breathed.

"Come on, Legolas. Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa, you must overcome this!" Elrohir encouraged, rubbing circles on the fair elf's back. As if in response the elf's chest spasmed again and he gasped.

Legolas himself was terrified. He had never experienced anything like this before and it frightened him. It was as though he were a prisoner in his body. At the least the poison was not excruciatingly painful. He felt odd, suddenly nauseous, and without warning managed to push himself to a sitting position, batting away the hands that tried to help but seemed to only hinder him. "…Saes!.." he gasped, pushing himself to stumbled past them, half crawling towards a group of bushes off to the edge of their camp before collapsing to his hands and knees. The painful spasms increased and he could not control the retching agony that would ensue.

The four exchanged looks of pity and concern as they hesitated, then slowly followed. Elrohir caught hold of Estel's sleeve, his eyes pleading for an explanation.

"It is a good sign, Elrohir. His system is cleansing itself, I think he will be all right in a few hours," Estel explained tiredly. More nagging than exhaustion and even than concern was the guilt he felt for being the cause of his best friend's torment. The healer in him knew it to be unavoidable, but the man struggled to reconcile his actions with his emotions. All he could do now was be supportive as Legolas struggled through this ordeal. He stood unsteadily, his back still pleasantly numb from what Elladan had given him, and walked to Legolas, sinking to his knees beside him, holding his hair as the elf suffered in silence. Elrohir did not follow for the moment. Being an elf, he had never experienced illness or any of the accompanying symptoms. This was an experience that only Estel could empathize with and he, for the moment, could not intrude. Sighing in frustration, he tucked a few stray strands of hair behind his ear before limping towards the fire, meaning to create a warm compress to perhaps ease Legolas' pain.

"I'll fetch some water, he will need it once he is settled once more to replenish what he has lost." Owen volunteered. Elladan eyed him suspiciously.

"I will go with him. Our supply runs dangerously low and this is no night for anyone of us to go alone in the wilderness." He volunteered, rising from his place beside Elrohir. He locked his eyes on Owen and the two, for a moment, were frozen in a battle of wills. The ranger's golden eyes bore deeply into the Elrondion's brown ones. Finally he relented with a curt nod, turning to ready his horse.

"Elladan, are you sure it is wise to split up right now? Dawn is but hours away." Elrohir protested, puzzled by his brothers strange actions and just a bit worried that Elladan's assumptions about the shifty ranger might come to be true.

"Legolas needs the water now Elrohir, and there is naught in our skins to suffice. We will return shortly," he replied, also heading for his horse.

Elrohir did not like it, but what choice did they have? He watched in silence as the two rode off, disappearing into the darkness beyond the soft glow of their campfire's light.

* * *

tbc...maybe I should try a cliffhanger and see how you guys like that! Until next time...;)


	11. Ten

**Author's Note**

Wow it's been a while! So a bit of a disclaimer for this next chapter...my story is AU and I am NOT a Tolkien expert so if my timeline/detailsare a bit off etc please let me know in a constructive way. :) Things are about to get interesting and I am excited to see what you think! Also, I really wanted to get this up so it hasn't been properly Beta'd ( there shouldn't be any glaring mistakes, but in case there are go easy on me- I just finished finals:) ) Thanks to all who reviewed last time! Thank you thank you thank you!

PLEASE review and let me know what you think! I am not going to beg...I am just asking very nicely.

Finally, I leave you with this...

Tolkien tells us '_What success they _Alatar and Pallando_ had I do not know; but I fear they failed, as Saruman did, though doubtless in different ways; and I suspect they were the founders or beginners of secret cults and 'magic' traditions that outlasted the fall of __Sauron_' (_The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien_, No. 211).

Enjoy! Oh, and Merry Christmas!

-Athena

* * *

**Ten**

They rode in silence. Owen took the lead and Elladan was behind, nudging his steed to follow as closely as he dared.

When they arrived at the banks of the unnamed river, the two dismounted in silence. Owen took three of the empty water skins and walked to the water's edge. Elladan followed behind, but did not fill his skin; instead he stood there, as if waiting for some inexplicable thing.

Owen finished and rose, turning to meet his intense stare. He glanced back at the glassy surface of the water and felt his heart clench in his chest. A small smile suddenly played on his lips, as though some inner conviction of his own had been validated. "So, it is you then." He spoke, more to himself. " I have been searching for you and here you are, standing before me." While he may have appeared to be cool and composed, inwardly the ranger chided himself for his negligence. _Why did I not trust my instincts and see it sooner?_ The two were still, frozen in the dim moonlight which remained hazy from the heavy smoke that still lingered in the night air.

Suddenly, Elladan's serious expression gave way to a broad, almost sinister smile. It seemed only to add to the mounting tension of that moment. "You are cleverer than I had originally given you credit for, ranger. I was warned of your mission, but had not anticipated your resourcefulness in tracking them in order to get to me,"

"What have you done with him?" Owen demanded, calmly yet firmly. He was, of course, referring to the noble elf whose handsome form this demon had stolen. Owen dropped the skins now, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

He was met with stony silence. He took a small step closer to the water and gazed at its silvery surface. Owen struggled to reign in the adrenaline pumping through his veins. In this eerie light, the elf looked menacing indeed, perhaps more so than even a Nazghul. His pale skin, dark features and sinister smile were of no consequence when compared to the glint of frenzied insanity, which was now evident in his eyes. But all this paled in comparison to the ranger's initial observation that though the moon did shine enough to cast their reflections upon the water, the elf did not have one. His reflection could not be cast.

And suddenly, in a voice not his own, 'Elladan' growled, "You are about to find out, young mortal," and with no further warning, his sword was unsheathed and sailing towards the momentarily shocked ranger. Owen raised his armored forearm in sheer reflex, deflecting the strike that was meant for his head. He unsheathed his own sword and staggered back, knowing full well that he was not a match for superhuman speed and accuracy. This could get very bad, very quickly.

Elladan did not pause, but instead used the momentum of his failed strike, swinging his blade around to catch the ranger across the arm. The wound was superficial but stinging. Owen parried and blocked, dodged and ducked as the blows rained down upon him. He jumped back, managing to put some space between them.

"You are more trouble than either I or my master had anticipated, false ranger. You were better off before that pathetic gray wizard whipped you into his servant," the supposed elf snarled, cleaning his barely soiled blade.

"Better to be his servant than your master's slave!" Owen retorted, taking the precious moment to apply pressure to the wound. The moment was, needless to say, short lived. Owen's response sparked a renewed indignation in the demon before him, and before Owen could even lift his sword, the elf lunged forward. This continued for what felt like hours. He could feel his muscles tiring, his stamina draining while the elf showed no signs of fatigue. The ranger stumbled, parrying another blow before being slammed against a nearby tree. Sliding to the ground, Owen was not even afforded that momentary pause as strong arms pulled him to his feet and slammed him again against the tree. He felt Elladan's fist connect with his chin, reeling from the powerful blow. Somehow he kept his senses about him, though the same could not be said for his sword. _It was my folly- I should have suspected the elf and now…_ Another blow to the face split his lip and sent the world tilting around him.

"Where is the ring, slave?" The elf growled, slamming him again against the tree. His head hit soundly and black splotches seemed to cloud his vision. Yet he said nothing. This time the hilt of Elladan's sword connected with his temple, resulting in an explosion of pain. Warm blood flowed down his arm, down his face, from his nose, from his lip. He could not suppress a moan.

"The ring! Where is it hidden?"

Owen could feel himself slipping away, his consciousness failing. The roar of the rushing river seemed intolerable. _The river_… In a desperate attempt to break free of 'Elladan's' grip, the ranger dropped to the ground, while at the same time sweeping out with his legs. He succeeded in catching the elf off guard who, as a result, momentarily loosened his grip on the young mortal. Somehow, through the pain and confusion muddling his thoughts, Owen managed to seize the opportunity, stumbling towards the riverbank and throwing himself into the river. He felt the freezing current take him, and felt himself fall against the sharps rocks of the riverbed. And then he knew no more.

* * *

"Welcome back gwador nin"

It was such a sweet voice, so familiar. He blinked, willing the world to come into focus. A beautiful being swam into view, glowing in radiance. "Arwen…" he breathed, his throat dry from lack of use. "Arwen?" She was there, before him, stroking his hair and holding his hand. "Where-" he instinctively move to sit up but was stopped by the gentle ministrations of another. They were not alone.

"Slowly, my son. Just try to relax," another familiar voice arose form somewhere to his left, though his neck was so tight and his head so heavy that he dared not move. He did not have to.

"Adar.."

Lord Elrond could not contain his relief. He smiled warmly, walking around the bed and coming into view beside Arwen. " It is good to see you awake, Elladan."

The younger elf allowed his gaze to wonder for a moment. He allowed his senses to gather information. A bed, he was lying on a soft bed in a brightly lit room. The white window dressings blew in a cool breeze form the open window and he welcomed the feeling of life it seemed to carry. He felt warm and safe here. But where was here? This was not his room in Imladris. The questions troubled him as he could not seem to piece the moments leading to this point together in any meaningful sequence.

Elrond frowned at his son's apparent distress. "Worry not, Elladan, you are safe now. You are in the realm of Lothlorien and are attended by your kin. You gave us quite a scare."

Elladan's mind was racing to comprehend what his father was telling him, though the process seemed unnaturally slow. If Elrond had been summoned from Imladris, he must have been here for some time, yet he did not remember even entering the Golden Wood. "I- I don't remember…what has happened to me? How did I come to be here? How long?"

"We were hoping you could tell us, gwador," Arwen whispered, clearly concerned. She continued to stroke his hair lovingly. "What do you last recall?"

Elladan thought about this for a minute. He remembered parting ways with Elrohir and Estel, the mission…yes! He was to take a message to Galadriel, Mithrandir was missing-and the ring…it was all so hazy in his mind. "I, I remember setting off for Lorien, but not reaching it. I remember the morning I left Imladris, and then the rest is all jumbled images in my head, it pains me greatly when I try to sort them…" he cleared his scratchy throat, wincing subconsciously at the discomfort.

Arwen turned and fetched a small cup of water from the table beside his bed. "Here, try to drink," she soothed, very gently helping to support his neck as he thirstily took in the cool liquid. Valar his head hurt!

"What other images come to you, Elladan. I know it is painful, but you must try."

He hesitated for a few tense moments, then continued though with some difficulty. "Voices shouting at me and at each other, though I cannot recall what they say. It is as though I have had a nightmare that now, as I wake, is slipping from my memory even as I speak of it. I cannot grasp it as it fades farther from my reach. There is darkness, and pain and an eagle…bound…and in the darkness an Istar robed in blue, like the sea…and an eagle…it is no use," he mumbled, becoming frustrated with his inability to remember. "What has happened to me Adar? How long have I been here?"

Elrond's brow creased in thought. _An Istar and eagle, but surely not Mithrandir…what has happened to you, my son… _"It has been one week since Haldir found you in the Golden Wood. He found you with naught but the torn garments you wore and a bloodied dagger in hand. They summoned me immediately when you did not wake," his voice was heavy with sorrow as Elrond recalled the fear he had felt upon receiving work from Galadriel of Elladan's plight. "You had us very worried, penneth."

It was then that Elladan became aware of the thick bandages covering his body, especially the one wrapped tightly around his head. Without thinking, he raised his left hand to his temple.

"The head wound was the most troublesome. We feared that you would not wake. I suspect that it is the cause of your memory loss," Elrond explained, sensing his son's confusion.

"One week," he mumbled. And then another memory came to him. "But I was supposed to meet Elrohir and Estel more than a week ago in Mirkwood! What has become of them?"

His question hung in the air, met with an uncomfortable silence. It was clear that Elrond was contemplating how best to answer, without causing his son to further exert himself. Finally, he determined that the truth was always the best choice in situations of such dire circumstance.

Elladan, for his part, knew that all was not well simply by the tears which shone brightly in his sister's eyes, tears that she dare not shed for fear that they would not cease. "Ada, tell me.." he pleaded, meeting the elf lord's gaze.

"We don't know what has become of them. I have spoken with King Thranduil. He says that Estel-" he stopped for a split second, " Aragorn waited for your arrival and Elrohir's in Mirkwood, when he received no word he became concerned. He and Legolas set out in search of Elrohir because of our unfamiliarity with the Firien Wood. He sent word to me and I in turn alerted Galadriel and Celeborn. We began to search for you. That was nearly two weeks ago. We have heard nothing from Aragorn, Legolas or Elrohir since. Haldir found you one week ago, as I explained earlier. Where you have been for the time before remains a mystery, but I suspect something sinister is at hand and I do not like it."

Elladan listened in silence. He wanted to leap out of bed, mount is horse and go in search of them. He wanted to comfort his sister and father and be strong in their time of need. He wanted to remember where he had been for the past two weeks. But his body refused to comply with any of these desires. His eyelids were heavy and though it is not common for elves to close their eyes in sleep, he could not resist the urge. "Father, we must…find them. We must," he mumbled, struggling to keep his senses against the sudden onslaught of exhaustion brought about by overexertion. What Elladan didn't realize was that his head wound was, indeed, very severe. Even with elven healing abilities, this injury was not to be taken lightly.

"Rest now, my son. Haldir has joined with Glorfindel and they are searching as we speak. You must recover your strength now, we will speak later." Elrond soothed. Unable to resist anymore, Elladan sighed, his eyes sliding shut.

Arwen cast a glance of panic towards her father. He gently laid his cool hand atop Elladan's brow, checking the dilation of his pupils and then temperature of his skin. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Arwen. "Worry not, Arwen. He will recover, what he needs now is sleep and care. I believe in time he will remember," _I just pray that it is not too late _

Though this seemed to pacify her for the moment, Elrond did not miss the perfidious creases in her brow. He sighed in frustration, and allowed his gaze to shift to the doorway, noticing Galadriel standing at the entrance, in all her splendor. How long she had been standing there, he did not know, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that he was being summoned and the news was not good. Standing in one smooth and graceful motion, he gently kissed her hand before joining Galadriel at the door.

He looked at her for a moment, eyes meeting eyes. Words seemed a formality. " You have seen something, a vision of my sons."

She nodded, golden hair spilling over her shoulders. Her gaze shifted to Arwen who tenderly soothed a slumbering Elladan. "Yes." For a fraction of a moment more there was silence, and then she turned to him with her full attention. " Walk with me, Elrond."

They found themselves a few moments later walking beneath the bows of Lorien, moonlight streaming down through the dense foliage. Had it not been for the dire circumstances surrounding this visit, Elrond would have been quite content to sit and enjoy the beautiful evening. At present, he could scarcely acknowledge its splendor, his mind was so troubled by what Galadriel had yet to vocalize.

"I have seen Elrohir, Estel and the Prince of Mirkwood."

The elf lord sighed in relief. " Then they are alive-"

"Yes, though they are in grave danger. There are many things I have seen, and I cannot yet make sense of them. But I can sense a stirring of evil, a terrible force to rival Sauron's Ring. I fear that Elimerel has been corrupted. Mithrandir is missing, held captive though by whom I am not certain. It is no coincidence that the Lamias has suddenly rejoined the circles of this world. They were summoned, supported by a forgotten evil that has now returned." Until this moment, she had not met his gaze. Elrond realized that they had stopped walking and were now standing in isolation at the center of one of the main bridges in the settlement. She turned to him now, eyes blazing with intense blue flame. " _They_ have returned."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. Who had returned? He was aware of Sauron's growing threat and now of Elimerel's corruption. But who else could be so terrible…and then he understood, his revelation whispered into the night air,

" Ithryn Luin…"

She turned away, confirming his answer. " But how and to what purpose? They were never to return to the west. What is there plan?"

" I do not know, but they want Aragorn and they want the Ring."

* * *

Hours had passed and the darkness of night began to fade into a hazy morning. Aragorn woke with a start. He didn't remember falling asleep. He moaned as his back once again flared to life. It was not as intense as it had been, but the ointment was wearing off and quickly. He could feel the pain increasing with each breath. Pushing the pain aside, he glanced at Legolas, who slept soundly to his right. _Praise the Valar_ Aragorn could not help but smile, despite himself, in relief. It had been a long and torturous night for Legolas, but it seemed the worst was indeed over and he would recover.

"Well done, Estel," a voice whispered.

Startled, Aragorn met Elrohir's beaming eyes. He felt groggy and disoriented, the after effects of blood loss and exhaustion. "How long have I been out?"

"Not long, less than an hour," Elrohir replied casually. He sat at Legolas' other side.

"Have you slept?" Aragorn replied, unable to suppress a yawn. He closed his eyes again, fighting to keep his breathing under control as not to alarm Elrohir. When Elladan returned, he would ask for the ointment. He could wait until then- he would have to.

"I am worried about Elladan. I don't know if I trust that ranger and they have been gone for many hours," Elrohir explained, expertly changing the subject and drawing attention away from the fact that he did not sleep a wink.

Aragorn nodded in agreement. "Now that Legolas is out of the woods, so to speak, we should go after them." He paused, then sighed gazing listlessly at the brightening sky. "It is a pity, ' he spoke, his voice low with regret. "I would have liked to visit the Mound of Elendil. We are so close, now I fear that I will never desire to see these woods again," he whispered, more to himself. "Funny that with all of the misfortunes we are facing, as of late, I would think of that."

"Not so strange, Estel. He is your ancestor and it is natural that you would feel the urge to pay him homage. I wish the time could be afforded to you. It seems the whole of middle-earth is bursting into flames. Mithrandir is gone, Mordor is awakened, the ring is found, Lamias is ruined and now Elladan has gone missing yet again. Thank the Valar that Legolas will recover," Elrohir mused, motioning to the still form resting peacefully beside them. "Though leave it to Legolas to come near death and make a grand show of it-"

"Because that was, of course, my intention," came a shaky voice, muffled by numerous cloaks which cocooned the elf within.

Elrohir's smile broadened. "Well, if it's not the elf himself," he chided, and then softened his tone. "How fair you Legolas?"

"In truth, I have been better," he whispered, his voice painfully hoarse. "But, thanks to the care of my brothers I will soon be well." His eyes shone with tears unshed.

"It is good to have you back, gwador nin," Aragorn managed, choked with emotion. They helped Legolas to sit up and apprised him of the situation concerning Elladan and the ranger. Just as they had finished explaining, the sound of crunching leaves and rustling branches drew their attention to the edge of their campsite.

There before them stood the elf they took to be Elladan, alone.

* * *

_tbc...do you think we can make it to 50 reviews? That would be so cool..._


	12. Eleven

**Author's Note:**

**Hello! It's been way too long. This chapter has not been Beta'd so please go easy on me as far as grammar is concerned. Congrats to my usual beta viggomaniac for posting what seems like will be a fantastic story ( judging by the quality of writing in the first chapter that is...:) ) Thanks to all who reviewed last time. Sorry for the late responses- it has been a really wild few months. It is so wonderful to read your reviews! Please keep them coming. We didn't break 50 last time :( but this is chapter eleven so anything could happen. Maybe make it to 60? So enjoy this next installment! I hope the next one won't take as long to post, there is a lot more story to tell. ;)**

**-Athena**

**

* * *

Eleven **

Somewhere, four hobbits had begun the journey of their lives, taking the off-beaten path out of the shire and braving a new world with a precious burden.

But not here.

Owen's particular sense of _here_ was vague to say the least. When he woke from unknown hours of blissful senselessness, he found himself in a very unusual predicament. He was dry and on land, of that much he was certain. As the details slowly came into focus, he could feel the rough bark of a tree against his hands, providing support against his back. His fingers ran slowly up and down the bark. They were behind his back…

They were bound behind his back.

As this realization sunk in, the remains of his momentary stupor dissipated rapidly. His eyes snapped open to alertness as he struggled to take in every detail of his current circumstances. From what he could tell, his wounds were cared for and bandaged. They did not pain him very much and for that he was thankful. _Odd that they should take the time to care for my injuries, yet bind my hands as if an enemy…_Despite the comfort of his wounds, due to the pounding in his head he determined it wise to avoid any sudden or overly ambitious movements. Out of the corner of his eye he could see what appeared to be a camp, with many beings bustling about, none seeming to be concerned with him. It was day, maybe even afternoon.

"You are awake," came an unfamiliar, strangely melodic voice. Owen raised his head to the sound of the voice a little too quickly. He bit back a moan as a wave of nausea threatened to steal his dignity. He could not reply if he wanted to. "You have suffered a moderate concussion, you will live."

Slowly, the golden haired figure before him spun into focus. His eyes narrowed in concentration. _Another elf, great. Just what I need at this moment._ "Why have you bound me thus?" There seemed no sense in beating about the bush.

The elf before him did not waver, showed no emotion. "Tell me exactly how you came to be floating down the river and no harm will come to you," the elf replied, stoically.

"I.." He hesitated, struggling to recall. _Ah yes, the river…_ "I do not remember," he lied, untrusting of these perceived enemies. Were they survivors from Lamias? But their features were so fair.

Before the elf could respond, he was joined by another.

Haldir turned to Glorfindel, barely restrained rage written subtly in his eyes and tone. "He claims that he does not recall how he arrived in the river."

The newly arrived elf bent to one knee, his face inches from the ranger. "We know of your struggle with the dark haired elf. We know of your battle with Elrohir-"At this, Owen's eyes widened involuntarily, stunned. Perceiving his expression as a confession, Glorfindel could not help but smirk. "Your eyes, as well as your dreams betray you." He rose to his feet, once again looking down upon their captive.

"I did not fight with Elrohir, I fought with Elladan."

Now it was Haldir who found it near impossible to retain his patience and composure. "That is quite impossible, Master Human. I found the elder son of Lord Elrond myself, he rests in the halls of the Golden Wood as we speak." Owen's mind was racing, and suddenly in a rush he remembered his great discovery. He recalled the moonlight on the water, and the lack of a reflection… "Therefore, it is very likely that an ignorant and likely uneducated edan such as yourself could easily confuse an elf with his elvin twin," he nearly spat, feeling outwardly disgusted by this man's lies, but more at the thought of harm coming to Elrohir.

"Who are you?" Owen demanded.

"I am Haldir, a march warden of the Galadhrim of Lórien." He stated flatly.

"And I am Glorfindel, a captain of Imladris, sworn ally to Lord Elrond and his kin."

_They are allies to Elrond! _"Then we are allies as well, for I am Owen, a ranger of the South and one of the Dunedain. I am a friend to all allies of Gandalf the Grey, especially the Lord of Imladris," he replied eagerly.

Both Glorfindel and Haldir considered this for a moment. It was Glorfindel who spoke first, brandishing his elven dagger in a threatening gesture. He did not revel in causing pain, but when matters concerned the safety of any of Elrond's children it conjured emotions not easily appeased by timely diplomacy. "Then, _Master Ranger_, you have some explaining to do. And I suggest you do it quickly, for neither I nor Haldir have the patience for further untruths."

Owen contemplated for a moment, but then drew in a deep breath, praying to Iluvatar that these elves were who they claimed to be. There was little choice in trusting them, given that he was injured, bound and at the other end of a sharp dagger wielded by two furious and very intimidating elves. "As I said before, I am a ranger from the South and thus have not been in contact with those of the north or their chieftain." At the mention of Aragorn, the elves visibly tensed. "I have been under the instruction of Gandalf the Grey. I believe he is known as Mithrandir to the Eldar. Since our first meeting, I have resigned myself to do his bidding regardless of the peril or consequence. Before his mysterious disappearance, Gandalf had given me a most perilous task indeed. I was told to hunt a creature unlike any that has existed in this realm, it is one of the ancient beings. It knows no identity, no shape, no reflection. Instead, it takes the identity of another, shifting like sand, malleable like clay." He paused, as though for emphasis.

He continued, his voice rougher, graver, "It is nearly impossible to decipher, save for the lack of reflection and the change in personality which may be evident. I began months ago and followed the beast secretly through many lands, observing and recording all of the interactions and actions it has accomplished. I would report to Gandalf on my progress and await further instruction, always watching and tracking. When Gandalf vanished, the creature too vanished and I could not find him again. I had tracked him to the Firien Wood and then lost the trail."

"Lamias and the realm of King Elimerel-" Haldir interjected.

"Yes, only there was something sinister about it. Some dark presence, perhaps Sauron himself, had firmly rooted in that place and Elimerel had been corrupted. I am sure now that the creature's intention was to communicate with that cursed King. When I arrived at the wood, I saw Aragorn, Chieftain of the North, and Legolas of Mirkwood arrive at the woodland gates," he continued to explain the events which followed, leading to the night beside the river. At this point, Owen sighed heavily, the drain of such concentration taking its toll on his battered head. "I stood before him at the riverside, and by the Valar I did not see a reflection on the moonlit water. I knew for certain that this was the creature I had been hunting, and possibly the key to Gandalf's disappearance."

"But who is the creature's master? Sauron himself? And what is its purpose?" Glorfindel questioned when the ranger had finished.

"I know not, Master Elf. There is much evil at hand. Methinks that he is a puppet to some lesser power than Sauron, though no less terrible. Gandalf knew, or at least suspected. As for its purpose, again I am not certain. It spent much time in Isengard, in the edan settlements and throughout Gondor," he replied, feeling weary.

"But you are not dressed as any ranger I have ever seen, and I have seen generations. Your name even sounds foreign to my ears and I am a very ancient being, young edan. You claim to be a friend to Mithrandir, yet he has never spoken of you." _And still more, you seem to know the much coveted identity of Aragorn, Isildur's only heir!_ He stopped himself from saying the last part aloud, only too aware that this supposed ranger may have no real knowledge of Aragorn's destiny. Still, the pieces did not seem to fit.

"I have answers to all of your many questions, Lord Glorfindel, but they cannot be revealed at this time and in this place. Let it suffice to say that I am new to my profession. I am a ranger, though not of the north or, if the full truth be told, of the south. I have been dubbed thus by Gandalf himself in that I have been in his service since our fates were joined three years ago. I owe him my life, and so cannot rest until the debt is repaid. I will find him, with or without your help. Though, considering my current situation your help would be much preferred!" He replied, his voice edgy with barely reigned frustration. The self-proclaimed ranger gestured to his wrists.

There was silence as Glorfindel regarded Owen. He cast a questioning glance at Haldir who, obviously against his better judgment, nodded his consent. Glorfindel hesitated a moment longer. Finally, he took to one knee, bent forward and used the knife to cut the bonds around his wrists and ankles. "About two weeks ago Lord Elrond learned of Mithrandir's disappearance. He dispatched his three sons to the various elvin realms in an attempt to summon representatives to an emergency council, and to collect information regarding Mithrandir. They were to meet after three days in Mirkwood. Needless to say, that did not happen. We have been searching for Elrohir, Aragorn and Legolas ever since," he explained.

Owen rubbed his sore wrists, leaning more heavily on the tree. "You said that you found Elladan?"

Haldir shifted on his feet. "I found him, near the outskirts of the northern wood leading to Lothlorien. When we left, he had yet to regain consciousness. We know not what has happened."

Owen considered this new information for a moment. " King Elimerel has joined forces with Saruman, I think in an attempt to find the ring. I know that Elimerel desired the ring greatly and the destruction of mankind even more so. He knew of Aragorn's identity, of that I am certain. Though, I do not think he understood his value. It seems to me that Elimerel made a bargain with another entity, possibly the master of the creature I have hunted. From my observations and reconnaissance, I believe Elimerel was prepared to betray Saruman. But to whom and for what purpose I know not. It seems that whoever Elimerel was working for, that evil knows of Aragorn as well and wants him as much if not more than the Ring."

Glorfindel's expression was grave. _He knows of both Aragorn and the Ring…how could Mithrandir have placed such trust in such a young and seemingly peripheral being? _He made a mental note of yet another mystery left unsolved. The man seemed sincere enough, and Glorfindel deemed himself a superb judge of character. Still, he would keep his guard up until he got his answers. " Where are they heading now, where will the creature lead them if not to Saruman?"

"The only one who can tell us that is Elladan, for I believe now that he is the key. Why else would the creature choose to take his form if he had not earlier encountered him." Owen replied, rubbing his temple absently. His head ached dully from the ordeal he had endured, but he did not allow himself to dwell on it. He was relieved to be in the presence of true allies and, for the first time, felt hopeful that Gandalf might still be found and rescued.

"We cannot wait for Elladan to wake. Backtracking to Lorien will take time that we do not have. It is time that our friends do not have." Haldir announced, breaking his previous silence.

Glorfindel arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "What do you propose?"

"We should retrace Elladan's steps. Perhaps whatever evil he encountered is now waiting for this creature to deliver Aragorn and along with him Elrohir and the Prince of Mirkwood!"

"It is not a bad idea. What say you ranger?"

The man managed to push himself to his feet. Though he hid it well, his slight difficulty was not lost on the elves. Still, Owen managed to compose himself fairly quickly. "I say we ride and not waste a moment more discussing it."

* * *

"Legolas, I worry for Estel." Elrohir whispered to the elf prince who was mounted before him on the stallion that they shared. Legolas shifted his glance to the horse trotting beside them. 

Aragorn did not look well indeed. He was slumped over the horses' neck, mounted before Elladan who held him firmly in place. He was pale, far too pale, and his skin was drenched in sweat. At first, after Elladan's tending, he had seemed to improve. But now, he could not last for more than a few hours without Elladan's herbs. The deep and mysterious wound on his back continuously oozed black tinged blood, causing what remained of his shirt to stick to his back. What worried Elrohir most was that his brother was, indeed, awake. His eyes were dim and glazed with exhaustion and silent suffering. He had not seen the human close his eyes successfully for more than ten minutes time since they left the clearing and Owen.

It pained Legolas to see his strong willed and usually vibrant friend so vulnerable.

Aragorn, for his part, was beginning to lose his grip on reality. The agony of his of his back gripped his entire body tightly, from the inside out. He felt suffocated. He could no longer repress the steady tremble, which settled into his limbs. Valar he wanted to sleep, but every time his eyes would shut he would see faces and hear the dark voices speaking in an evil tongue. His eyes would flash open and the faces and voices would vanish, as swiftly as his memory of them. In truth, it terrified him. He wished he could take a dagger and carve out the evil marks marring his broad shoulders. Alas, he lacked the strength even to sit upright on the horse. Elladan's strong embrace seemed his only comfort, his fragile anchor to reality.

"I worry for him as well, Elrohir. The markings…they are seeping with evil," the fair-haired elf whispered in response.

Elrohir's brow was furrowed in confusion. Legolas had yet to discover that Elrohir had never seen nor been alerted to the unnatural carvings in his brother's back. " Markings? What marking's do you speak of Legolas?" He replied, urgency creeping into his previously even tone.

Legolas hesitated, glancing over at the horse bearing their two companions. _Strange indeed that Elladan not mention it to Elrohir…_ He had often seen Elladan call for a halt in their journey to tend Estel's wounds, and with growing frequency. The elder elf must have been aware of the grave severity of Aragorn's affliction. What were his reasons for not telling Elrohir? " He…Estel was taken as you know. They…carved something, Elrohir, between his shoulder's blades, some word or phrase using characters of the black tongue…" his voice dropped even lower as a cool shiver claimed the younger elf's body. His gaze drifted to the greenery as he began to relive the night of Aragorn's torment at the hands of the strange and ornate dagger. " I, I have never heard such a scream of anguish as I did that night, I have never seen Estel endure such pain," he closed his eyes, managing with some effort to swallow past the forming lump in his throat at the too vivid memory. " It is surely a poisoned wound, he suffers even now and I fear whatever evil the wound brings, its hold is growing stronger."

Elrohir was silent, seeming to consider this new information. Why had Elladan not said anything to him? He had been so preoccupied with Legolas' ailment, and then Owen's apparent betrayal that he had not even, until this moment, paid attention to their surroundings. Shouldn't they have been heading more north than east? Surely Elladan knew the way to Lothlorien…Suddenly, without warning, he pulled sharply on the reigns of their steed causing it to buck in surprise.

"Halt! I am calling us to rest." He exclaimed, meeting Elladan's questioning stare with stern intent. "Legolas grows weary and he would do well with some rest!" Elrohir announced. Legolas suppressed the urge to grumble in annoyance at having the halt be blamed on his infirmity, but he understood Elrohir's intention and said nothing.

Elrohir wanted to see the wound.

The seeming elf who had come to be known by his current traveling companions as Elladan followed suit and coaxed his steed to a halt. Elrohir had already dismounted and was helping Legolas to do this same, in an effort to keep up the halfhearted ruse. After "helping" Legolas to the ground and handing him the reigns, Elrohir made his way to his brothers.

Elladan had dismounted with Aragorn in tow and was supporting the most of the man's weight, with one arm wrapped tightly around his mid section. Aragorn, for his part, swayed on his feet, but managed to remain standing. "How do you fare Estel," Elrohir asked, his gentle inquiry laden with concern.

The man took in a shaky breath. "In truth…not well, brother," he managed, unable to conceal the obvious. " I..the pain only lessens with…the ointment…" he whispered between labored breaths.

" We shall treat you presently, brother, fear not," Elladan responded. He turned to Elrohir. " I will settle him and treat his wounds. You and Legolas must set up camp and build a fire."

" Elladan, you must be weary yourself. Let me tend Estel-"

"No!" Elladan snapped, surprising Elrohir and Legolas as well, who was tending the horses at a distance. The eldest elf quickly regained composure, perceiving Elrohir's confusion. " I am sorry Elrohir, I did not mean to sound harsh. But the herbs I carry are very potent pain relievers and require very specific attention. They were given me by father to be used only in circumstances of dire need."

"What…what are they known as…?" Aragorn asked, surprising the three who had not expected him to be as coherent.

"Do not trouble yourself, Estel. You have probably never heard of them as they are of a very old and ancient sort."

Frustration flashed in the younger elf's eyes. "Elladan, what afflicts him so? The seemingly more serious of his wounds were tended rather nicely by Elimerel. And the lashing, while painful, should not be worsening his condition and should certainly not be affecting him so totally. Is it poison of some sort?" Elrohir demanded, desperate to make sense out of the senseless.

"I do not know."

" And the wound, Elladan." Both Elladan and Elrohir turned to face Legolas as he strode to them, entering the conversation without invitation or need of one for that matter. Elrohir remained silent, feigning ignorance.

"What wound?" he asked, anxious to decipher Elladan's strange behavior.

Elladan paused, hesitated. Aragorn was clutching at his tunic, the pain seeming to worsen with each breath. He felt the strong grip around his waste. His legs felt weak, like jelly, and he knew that they could not hold him without aid. He trembled with the effort, head low and resting on Elladan's shoulder. The tension of the moment was shattered by his soft, pleading voice. "Please…" he groaned. "..can we continue the conversation…after the ointment is administered…?" He gasped, as the intensity was amplified by his efforts to speak.

Elladan locked eyes with Elrohir, who was torn asunder by his confusion regarding Elladan's behavior and his human brother's desperate plea. "Yes, help him-" he heard himself whisper, hot tears of empathy welling in his widened eyes. Estel was suffering. That was their first priority.

As though not to waste any more time, Legolas spread his cloak on the forest floor and they gently eased Estel onto his chest. His breathing was shallow, and his whole body trembled with each attempt to draw in air. Elrohir and Legolas watched in silent scrutiny as Elladan set to work. With speed borne of urgency, the elder elf reached into his cloak and removed a small vile of grey glass stopped with a cork. Elrohir and Legolas watched, curiosity getting the better of them. Elladan, seeming to pay no mind to their scruitiny, unstopped the bottle. The contents glittered and sparkled. It looked almost like red sand, but shimmering as though bathed in perpetual sunlight. It was what one might imagine fine dairy dust to look like, if mythical creatures such as fairies actually existed. Elladan gently exposed the back now, peeling back the remains of Aragorn's tattered tunic.

Elrohir gasped involuntarily at the grisly state of Aragorn's wound. He felt a wave of nausea roll through his stomach as the words that Legolas had spoken were validated. "How- how could you not have told me of this?" He stammered, his eyes hesitantly leaving the wound to search deeply into Elladan's cool spheres.

" I did not wish to quarrel with you, Elrohir." He said simply, then thought better of it. "You were injured brother, still are. I did not want to trouble you further. Legolas was ill, and then Owen betrayed us. It never seemed the proper moment to further trouble you, especially since nothing can be done save what I have been doing. At least until Lord El- Ada can help him." Elladan explained, his icy blue eyes melting ever so slightly.

Elrohir was silent, considering his brother's explanation.

Legolas, on the other hand, could feel his skin crawl and his senses tingling with warning. Just what had alarmed him, he could not tell. Yet there was something in Elladan's demeanor, in his reasoning that seemed amiss. To start, these were no ordinary markings and Elrohir had always been the more talented healer of the two. Since when did Elladan carry ancient and rare herbs on routine errands. The prince was pulled from his thoughts by the soft groaning of the human before him. Elladan had begun to sprinkle the drug onto Aragorn's wound. He decided to speak up.

"The wound, Elladan, it does not seem to be healing. In fact, it seems worse. Will your powder stave off infection and stop the bleeding?" He asked, absently taking hold of Aragorn's cold hand.

"The exact properties are unknown to me." He replied, continuing in his administration. Aragorn hissed and shifted in discomfort. "But I believe that it works from the inside out."

Aragorn began to tremble as the drug took effect. His breathing hitched for a moment as the unbearable pain became intolerable- and then it was gone. He took in a deep, albeit shaky breath, and then closed his eyes in relief.

"..thank..thank the Valar…" Aragorn mumbled, basking in the warmth that now spread throughout his body.

Elrohir and Legolas exchanged an uneasy glance. Elladan replaced the cork and then slipped the mysterious vile into his cloak. "You see?" he challenged, motioning to Aragorn. "Does it matter more that we understand _how_ it works, or that it does work?" Both Elrohir and Legolas could not help but flinch at the irritation evident in his response. The elf rose swiftly to his feet. "I will start the fire. You two tend to Aragorn and your own hurts while I set up." And with that, he was gone, leaving the two dumbfounded elves to try to process what was happening.

Legolas' eyes were now transfixed on the bleeding characters inscribed in Aragorn's flesh. The red powder seemed to accent the angry marks. " Elrohir, we must get Estel to Rivendell. We cannot camp here, not now. We must leave tonight."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review if you have a minute! ;) tbc **


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